


Black silk

by Umi_no_arawashi



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: (not between AGS), Abusive Relationships, Alpha Angeal Hewley, Alpha Rufus Shinra, Alpha Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Claiming Bites, Collars, Comeplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Flogging, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, No mpreg, Omega Genesis Rhapsodos, Omega Tseng, Omega/Omega, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Painplay, President Shinra’s A+ parenting, Rimming, Rough Sex, Rufus Shinra being a dick, Some mention of non-con/dub-con, True Mates, Watching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umi_no_arawashi/pseuds/Umi_no_arawashi
Summary: Tseng is Rufus Shinra's omega.Genesis doesn't like the way Rufus treats him.
Relationships: Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth, Angeal Hewley/Sephiroth, Genesis Rhapsodos/Tseng, Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 84
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So you know how in the Remake, towards the end (spoiler warning), there's this scene between Rufus, Tseng, and Heidegger? Well, for some reason, it just clicked in my weird little brain: 
> 
> Tseng as Rufus' omega. 
> 
> Tseng as Rufus' _mistreated_ omega.
> 
> Tseng as Rufus' mistreated omega, _and AGS rescuing him._
> 
> And then Genesis came in and insisted on adding all of the porn. Blame him, not me.

Genesis leaned over the balustrade of the high balcony, looking at the glittering lights of Midgar below. From where he was standing, the sounds of the party seemed muffled. Snippets of music and the occasional peal of laughter drifted in with the wind, but it was quiet. It was cold outside, so Genesis was alone. It was what he’d been looking for. 

Angeal and Sephiroth were inside, surrounded by socialites eager to rub shoulders with the mighty. Genesis had managed to escape the fawning crowds, though. He hated how people were around him, treating him as though he was a rare, freakish creature, their awkward comments as they talked to him half admiring, half shocked at this strangest of being: a proud, fierce, and powerful omega, blatantly unclaimed. Neither Sephiroth nor Angeal, his two alpha lovers, had ever given him the bite that would publicly mark him as theirs. It was something all three of them agreed on. Genesis belonged to no one apart from himself.

It made him an oddity, in a world where the norm was for omegas to proudly display their bonding bites and for alphas to hover protectively around their omegas, proud of their ability to provide them safety and satisfaction. Quite often Genesis would catch other omegas looking at him in wonderment. Didn’t he know how good it felt to be claimed, owned?

But Genesis had always refused, ever since he first learned his assignation, back in Banora, when his first heat had manifested and an embarrassed, bashful Angeal had offered to help him through it. And even though it had been wonderful, despite their fumbling and their inexperience, Genesis had realised almost immediately he didn’t want to belong to Angeal. He wanted to be with him, to love him, to spend every day of his life by his side, as comrades, friends, and lovers, but not _belong_ to him.

Angeal, much later, admitted over far too much Mideelean whisky that at first, genesis's refusal had hurt him. It had felt like rejection, like somehow he wasn’t good enough. Some fundamental alpha pride had been wounded, and it took him a while to understand that this was just how Genesis was. That Genesis couldn’t accept anything else.

Later still, when they met Sephiroth, the last piece of the puzzle clicked in place. Of course they couldn’t have a traditional bond, not when there were three of them, and two of them were alphas, but they loved each other with the intensity of a wildfire. They had something else, something much better, that was their own and no one else’s.

It meant a certain amount of adjustments on all sides. It also meant Genesis kept a lovely collection of biting collars, the kind used by omega sex workers or the rare, scandalous promiscuous omegas. It let his lovers satisfy their need to bite when they needed to, without the risk of his body taking it as a claiming bite. He loved it when they did that. It seemed to make the last remaining threads of their self-control snap as they were mounting him, to drive them into a true frenzy of lust, ramming their engorged knots into his willing body with reckless abandon until everything was merciless pleasure and the delicious pain of being split in two by their massive knots.

He grinned to himself. He was lucky to have them. He’d never regretted his gender, not once, not even with the added hassle of heats and having to take suppressants when on missions. It was worth it, more than worth it, to have his lovers by his side and to be able to give and receive such pleasure from them.

He felt rather than saw someone else lean on the railing, not far from him. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. The warm summer breeze carried his scent over, some unnamed, unknown flower, not unlike jasmine, perhaps, but with a hint of dark spice, mixed with an almond-like sweetness that always made Genesis think of marzipan and nougats. 

Tseng. Genesis looked up and raised a hand in greeting. Tseng nodded back, his face as blank as ever. He was wearing a dark suit, as befitted the head of the Turks, but this was clearly much nicer than his usual work clothes, close-fitting and tailored in order to emphasise his trim, elegant figure. There was a sheen to the fabric that wasn’t usually there that made it look luxurious and touchable. Tseng usually wore his long black hair down his back, swept away from his face, but tonight it was up, intricately twisted in soft loops at the back of his head, leaving two long strands in front to fall down over his shoulders. It made Tseng look delicately pretty, beautiful, even, showing off the soft curves of his face.

It also, inexorably, drew the eye to the nape of Tseng’s neck and to the mark that stood out there, the imprint of Rufus Shinra’s claiming bite, clear and red against Tseng’s pale skin.

Tseng was an omega, of course, Rufus's bonded mate, even though Rufus was almost five years younger than Tseng. Their bond, in fact, was exceptionally strong, a true bond, some said. The kind that nothing could break.

Anywhere Rufus went, Tseng would be there, watching over him, quiet and lethal. His proficiency with weapons was legendary, his ruthlessness second only to his absolute loyalty. Genesis had never had much contact with the man outside of a purely professional setting. He knew the other Turks respected and admired him, though, and Genesis knew first hand how hard it could be to earn respect as an omega.

“You felt like getting some fresh air as well, then?” he asked idly. He felt in a talkative mood.

Tseng nodded. “It was hot in there. And…” He gave a small, tense smile. He was slightly flushed.

“You’ve got a heat coming up?” Genesis smiled. “You smell like it.”

“Do I?” said Tseng. He looked a little embarrassed. It was a highly personal thing to say. Then again, Genesis had never really been one for obeying social convention.

“Probably not to anyone else. To another omega, yes.” Genesis smiled. “I just had one. It was… _very_ nice.” He stretched, cat-like. Tseng blushed a little. “Are you planning on taking the week off, then?”

Tseng shook his head. “No. I’ll take the pills. The Vice-president needs me.”

“Rufus? Couldn’t he take some time off as well? You deserve a little fun, don’t you?”

Tseng shook his head. “The Vice-president’s time is too precious to waste on things like that.”

“What?” said Genesis, outraged. There was nothing he liked best than spending the best part of a week nesting in his massive bed, being waited on hand and foot by his two lovers and passed between them as they took turns to knot him again and again until he fell into a kind of trance, blissful and boneless, feeling safe and loved and fulfilled.

“I’ll just take the pills,” shrugged Tseng. He turned to face Genesis. “I’m glad you had a nice time, though. With your _two_ alphas.” His tone was expressionless as ever, but there was a small glint in his eye.

Genesis smirked. “What, are you worried I don’t keep them satisfied?”

“I’m surprised you’re still able to walk,” said Tseng, impassive, and Genesis giggled. Oh, but this was utterly delightful! He’d had no idea the Turk was actually capable of making a joke.

“Well, I’m a SOLDIER First Class, you know. We’re hard to break.”

“Or perhaps your lovers aren’t as impressive as their swords might lead one to imagine,” said Tseng evenly, as though he was commenting on the weather.

Genesis giggled again, charmed. “You’re a lot more fun than I thought you’d be,” he said with a grin.

“I may have had one glass of wine too many, actually,” said Tseng, but he smiled back.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Genesis moved a little closer. “Now tell me again about how you like to imagine things about Seph and Angeal’s swords?”

Tseng snickered behind his hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about your alphas, should I?”

“Why not? It’s fun. And think how much fun I’m going to have telling them all about it later.”

Tseng’s almond-shaped eyes grew wide. “Rhapsodos! Tell me you wouldn’t.”

“Hmm…” said Genesis, tapping his chin with one glove-clad finger. “Well, on one hand, I’m all for omega solidarity. But on the other, think about how flustered Angeal would be if he learned the respected head of the Turks liked to wonder about the size of his sword...”

“It’s not what I said, you brat!”

“It’s how I’m choosing to remember it.”

“You realise I can ask Lazard to have you sent to the Gongagan swamps for a month, don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t dare, you monster! Do you have any idea what the humidity does to my hair?”

Tseng smiled, a little evilly. “No. However, I can’t imagine all that red leather is very comfortable in subtropical weather.”

“Ooh, you mean bastard.” Genesis grinned again. “I like you. We should have a drink together, some time.”

“Are you even old enough to drink?” said Tseng, raising an eyebrow.

“I am. The question is, are you too old to keep up with me?”

“You’d challenge a Turk to a drinking contest? Perhaps what they say about you is true. More looks than brain.”

“Ha, so you _do_ think I’m pretty, then?”

Tseng snickered again. “You’re impossible.”

“So I get told on a regular basis. So... What about that drink, then?”

Tseng was about to answer when a curt voice interrupted him.

“Tseng. There you are,” said Rufus Shinra, striding towards Tseng with a frown on his face. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Tseng opened his mouth to apologise, but Genesis spoke over him. “He was talking to me.”

“Was he,” said Rufus coolly. “Good evening, Genesis. I was just talking to Sephiroth. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to borrow Tseng back.”

“But we were having so much fun!” said Genesis, pouting.

“I’m sorry, Genesis, you’re going to have to find someone else to annoy. Tseng, to me,” he said, snapping his fingers. 

Tseng walked up to him obediently. Rufus grimaced. “You look like an absolute mess.” He brushed back a strand of Tseng’s hair that had been blown out of place by the wind. “Look at you. You’re a disgrace. You do realise there are photographers at this event?”

“Yes, Alpha” said Tseng, bowing his head.

Genesis cringed a little at the appellation. It was rare, except in the most traditional circles, to use those words instead of a mate’s name. Genesis never liked it. He was Genesis and his mates were Seph and Angeal, people, not some stereotypical gender roles.

“Do you think I want people to think my omega is an undisciplined mess? Go and fix yourself up, for Gaia’s sake,” said Rufus, sneering. “And do something about your scent, why don’t you.” He wrinkled his aristocratic nose in disgust. “You should have been on suppressants days ago.”

“I’m sorry, Alpha.” To genesis's sensitive nose, something had changed in Tseng’s scent. There was a hint of sourness with the spice, like the taste of fear. He bowed and turned to leave.

Rufus was about to do the same when Genesis stopped him. “You know suppressants aren’t good for us,” he said.

“What?” said Rufus over his shoulder. 

“Suppressants. They make you feel like shit. Why don’t you just spend his heat with him?”

Rufus drew himself up to his full height, outraged. “What are you saying to me, Genesis?”

“Nothing. Just giving some advice, that’s all.”

“Genesis, the day I’ll take from you… You and your so-called ‘mates’ have no idea how an omega should behave. Or an alpha, for that matter.”

It took all genesis's willpower not to snap back. But this was Rufus Shinra, and he was more trouble than he was worth. And after all, it didn’t matter what the little twerp thought about him or his mates. He was nothing but an angry little alpha, snapping like an excitable lapdog. 

“If you say so, Vice-President,” he said, before turning back to look at the view. 

Rufus stood next to him for a few moments, as though waiting for him to say something, then finally, left without saying a word. 

Genesis waited a bit before returning inside. He felt unreasonably angry. It was stupid. Rufus had always been unpleasant, there was no reason to let it get to him now. And yet, he couldn’t quite shake it off.

When he finally came back into the room, Angeal and Sephiroth were gone. Sephiroth must have had enough of small talk and inane conversation. It was always safest to leave, in those cases. An annoyed Sephiroth was a dangerous Sephiroth. A bored Sephiroth was even worse. Angeal had probably seen the warning signs and made their goodbyes. 

Rufus Shinra was busy charming a group of rich socialites who were hanging on his every word. Usually, Genesis would have liked nothing more than to swoop in and steal the spotlight from him, just to see the look on his face. But he didn’t feel much like being social anymore, tonight. 

Tseng was standing two steps behind Rufus, as always, perfect and silent. No one talked to him, of course. These were all alphas and betas. They might compliment Rufus on his omega, certainly, but it wouldn’t even cross their mind to talk directly to the man. Talking to an omega in the presence of his alpha was a big social faux-pas. 

Genesis sneered to himself and, picking up a glass of expensive wine, downed it in one gulp. Fuck this party, and fuck these idiots. He turned on his heels and left without a word.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve done some cleaning up and changed how I divide my chapters on this, so if you already read the old version of chapter one, this is the second half of that. Sorry, this story is basically my muse going mad from the isolation thing, so it’s not exactly planned or well-constructed. It’s basically just growing on its own like a monstrous overwatered houseplant.

He walked into their apartment, and immediately the comforting scent of home calmed him down. This was their haven, the three of them, a place where nothing could touch them. 

Angeal was in the kitchen, his hair wet, a towel tied loosely around his waist. 

“Gen,” he said, and smiled warmly. “So even you couldn’t stand all the schmoozing, then?”

Genesis shrugged. “Even I get bored sometimes. Where’s Seph?”

“He’s in the shower, trying to cool down. I thought he was going to lose it tonight. Say, Gen, you’re not up for a bit of fun tonight, are you?”

“Nah.” Genesis shook his head. “Too fucked out from last week. Why, are you guys up for it?” 

Angeal smiled wickedly. “I’m always up for it, you know that. But it’s Seph. You know he didn’t get enough time with you last week… and now he’s had to behave all evening, and you know how he gets.”

“What, has he gone full alpha again?”

“Pretty much,” grinned Angeal. 

Despite appearances, Sephiroth often liked to let others take charge in bed. Genesis was especially fond of tying him up and riding him, and, quite often, topping him. That was one of their little idiosyncrasies. No one would possibly guess that Sephiroth, the incarnation of alpha-hood, with a presence so domineering other alphas would often cringe like nervous betas in front of him, actually loved to writhe under his omega lover, mewling like an omega in heat, arching his back to take more of genesis's cock.

But sometimes, Sephiroth’s alpha instincts would take over, and then no one, not even Angeal, could compare to his intensity.

Genesis picked up an apple from the kitchen and followed Angeal into his bedroom. He perched himself on the armchair in the corner.

“You’re about to get slaughtered, Ang. Absolutely destroyed,” he grinned.

“I take it you won’t join?” 

“No.” Right after his heat, there was always a period when Genesis tended not to feel like sex. “But I want to watch, though. Seph mounting you, now that’s hot. Just hope you’re ready to get reamed, that’s all. You know what he’s like when he gets into one of these moods. Better lube up, Ang.” He grinned. “What are you going to do if he knots you?”

“He won’t. Well, he might, I guess. He said he wouldn’t, but like you said, you know how he gets. Gen, you know what would be nice and really, really hot? If you lubed me up yourself,” said Angeal, with a hint of a whine.

“Nah. I’m eating. And I don’t want your alpha pheromones all over me when I’m just over a heat, it’ll just give me a headache. Besides…” Genesis took a bite from his apple. “That way, I get to watch.”

“Pervert.”

“Says the alpha about to get fucked. Come on, get on with it. Let me see it.”

Angeal grabbed their bottle of lube - and that, in itself, was quite a scandalous thing to own, much as genesis's collars. Omegas didn’t require lube, their body took care of that on its own, and alphas were certainly not supposed to even want anyone inside them.

Which was exactly why watching Angeal as he slowly fucked himself on his own fingers, opening up his small, tight alpha hole, was all the more attractive. Genesis snuggled deeper into the armchair. “Add another finger,” he purred. 

“Fuck, Gen,” said Angeal, slightly out of breath, “I can hardly move my hand as it is…”

“How long has it been since you’ve had Seph inside of you? You need more than two fingers, Angeal. He won’t go easy on you just because you’re an alpha.”

“Hgn…” said Angeal, arching his back as he pushed another finger into himself. “Like this?”

“Yes. Keep going.” Genesis bit on his index finger. This was turning him on more than he thought it would. Usually, after his heats, he was quite content to let the two others play on their own for a few days, but tonight… “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“He’s mine, Genesis,” said Sephiroth, his voice deep and rough like a growl. “Don’t even think about it.” He was standing in the doorframe, naked and glorious. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower, his gorgeous white hair still wet, clinging to his naked skin, his cock jutting out in front of him, already hard as steel.

“Wasn’t going to. I’m just watching,” said Genesis. Sephiroth strode towards the bed, and Genesis wondered, for a second, what would happen if he actually tried to step in between them at that very moment. A delicious thrill went down his spine at the thought Sephiroth might actually rip him to shreds, omega or not. Sephiroth in one of those moods was a force of nature, unstoppable, and they all knew he was much stronger than them, no matter how much he liked to play it down when they sparred.

Sephiroth let out a kind of growl and pushed Angeal back on the bed. Genesis bit his lip. His right hand had moved to his crotch, of its own accord, it seemed, pressing against his growing erection. In his left hand, the half-eaten apple dangled. 

Sephiroth slipped his hands under Angeal’s thighs and lifted him up with insulting ease, spreading him open, and in one, powerful movement, buried himself deep inside him.

Angeal threw his head back and _screamed_.

Sephiroth stopped, still as a statue. On his powerful back and thighs, muscles stood out with the strain of holding back. Angeal panted, trying to adjust to Sephiroth’s girth. 

Genesis bit down harder on his lip, hard enough to hurt, and the half-eaten apple fell to the ground, forgotten. “Fuck,” he swore softly.

Sephiroth looked down at Angeal. It was clear it cost him all his strength to hold back. Angeal groaned, stretched his back again, his head falling back as he took a few gasping breaths, and then he looked Sephiroth straight in the eye, and nodded.

Sephiroth growled and started driving into Angeal, slow but hard, relentlessly, mercilessly. With each thrust, Angeal threw his head back, breathing hard. He was rock hard, noticed Genesis, leaking pre-come helplessly onto his toned abs as Sephiroth thrust into him, still keeping up his slow, steady rhythm.

Genesis decided he couldn’t stand it. Yes, he’d just had his heat, but this was _hot_. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers, he fumbled with the buttons holding his tight leather trousers closed and took himself in hand with a sigh of relief. Lower, he could feel the warmth of his slick gathering between his thighs. He dipped his hand down to his hole, gathering some of the wetness there on his fingers, and spread it over his aching cock. He gave himself a few pumps, timing with the rhythm of Sephiroth’s thrusts, and hissed.

Sephiroth looked up at him. There was something dark, animalistic, even, in his beautiful cat’s eyes. “Get on the bed, Genesis,” he said.

Genesis got up, fumbling to get rid of his clothes as fast as possible. Sephiroth pulled out of Angeal after a particularly hard thrust, and flipped Angeal over as though he weighed nothing, placing him on his hands and knees. “Take his mouth,” he told Genesis.

Genesis climbed onto the bed. Angeal was looking at him with glazed, heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re doing so well, Ang,” he said, stroking Angeal’s black hair once before taking his cock in one hand and guiding it into Angeal’s open mouth.

Angeal moaned in appreciation and closed his lips around Genesis, his tongue stroking him, tasting him. Genesis let him bob his head along his length once or twice, shivering with the pleasure of it, then he looked up to meet Sephiroth’s eyes. Genesis smiled. “Go for it,” he mouthed.

Sephiroth grabbed Angeal, his large hands digging into the flesh of Angeal’s hips, and Genesis felt rather than heard Angeal moan around him. He grinned and put his hands around Angeal’s throat, holding him firmly in place, and started sliding in and out of Angeal’s mouth, in time with Sephiroth’s powerful thrusts.

It was so fucking good he felt like he was going to pass out. This close to a heat, he often felt too sensitive to come, but Angeal’s hot, wet mouth, the delicious sounds he made as Sephiroth fucked in mercilessly, as Genesis rammed his cock down his throat, almost hard enough to choke him, all kept bringing Genesis closer and closer to climax.

He tried to warn Angeal, he really did, but all he managed was a sort of strangled cry before he came down Angeal’s throat, gasping for air. Angeal didn’t miss a beat, though, just swallowed it all, licking Genesis’s cock clean.

Genesis sat back on the bed. “ _Good_ boy,” he said, panting slightly. Angeal looked up and smirked.

“Pay attention to me when I’m fucking you, Angeal,” growled Sephiroth. He placed one hand at the back of Angeal’s neck and pushed him down into the mattress, forcing his ass up. Angeal swore and submitted, spreading his legs further as Sephiroth pounded faster and faster into him. 

Genesis moved closer, taking hold of Angeal’s hands, whispering praise and encouragement to him. He felt Angeal’s hands shake as he came helplessly under Sephiroth’s onslaught, and smiled as he thought of all the times he’d heard or read that under no conditions could an alpha feel any pleasure from being penetrated.

Angeal slumped forward, spent, but Sephiroth wasn’t done. He had that tense, almost cruel expression he sometimes got when he really got into it, when he was about to let go completely. He bared his teeth in a snarl and thrust one last time with all his might, burying himself deep within Angeal, and stilled. His hair had fallen in front of his face, but his chest was rising rapidly with his breaths.

“Seph?” said Genesis.

Sephiroth didn’t answer. He was panting heavily.

“Seph, baby, pull out, or you’ll knot him,” said Genesis, leaning forward to stroke one of Sephiroth’s hands gently.

Sephiroth snarled, as though he didn’t enjoy the idea, but pushed himself back with a visible effort. Angeal collapsed onto the bed, and Sephiroth leaned over him, taking his massive cock in hand. He’d pulled out just in time, noticed Genesis, his knot was already forming at the base of his shaft, swollen and red. Sephiroth ran his hand along his length a few times, then moved down to his knot, and _squeezed_. Genesis watched, transfixed, as he came copiously over Angeal’s buttocks, covering them in white semen.

“Fuck, Seph,” swore Angeal once he was done. He sounded out of breath. “That was… something. I really thought you were going to knot me there for a second.”

“Sorry,” said Sephiroth. He looked slightly guilty. “I didn’t mean to go that hard.” He pulled Angeal up for a kiss. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Angeal chuckled and kissed him back. “No, but man, sometimes, you’re intense, you know that? I'm going to be sore tomorrow. And I’m supposed to train the Seconds. Don’t know how I’ll manage.”

“I’m sorry.” Sephiroth looked down at his handiwork. “I’ll… go get a towel to clean you up,” he said , a little contritely, and left.

Angeal rolled over heavily onto his back with a groan.

“Wow,” said Genesis as he crawled over to inspect his lover’s body. Angeal was still breathing hard. One of his feet was on the bed, his knee bent, his thighs wide open, as though he couldn’t quite bear to close them. “Wow, Ang, he _wrecked_ you,” said Genesis, awed by the sight. Lightly, he lifted Angeal’s ballsack and let his finger circle the swollen rim of his hole, the dark hair around it slick with lube and semen. Angeal shivered.

“You’re gaping,” said Genesis wonderingly. 

“I wasn’t made for this,” groaned Angeal, still sounding a little groggy.

“No, poor baby,” said Genesis, leaning forward to kiss the red, tender skin reverendly. “But look how well you took it.” Pheromone induced headaches be damned, it was just too tempting. He dipped his tongue inside Angeal’s ravaged hole, lapping at Sephiroth’s semen in short, delicate licks that made Angeal shiver.

“Not that you don’t make a very pretty sight, Genesis,” said Sephiroth, settling back on the bed, a warm wet towel in his hands, “but we need to get Angeal cleaned up before he falls asleep and I don’t think you’re going about it in the most efficient way.”

“Seph, look what you did to my Angeal”, said Genesis, looking up and pouting.

“I didn’t hear him complaining. Besides, he’s my Angeal too.” But Seph looked a little troubled for a second. “You are alright, aren’t you?”

Angeal nodded, smiling. “Yes. Gen’s just jealous. Come here, Seph.” Sephiroth climbed over to Angeal, hair spread like a veil over his back, and let himself be pulled down in a kiss.

“Oh, so what?” said Genesis “I’ll just do the cleaning up while you two make out, shall I?”

Sephiroth laughed, the sound muffled by Angeal’s mouth. “Yes, why don’t you do that?” he rumbled, his voice deep and slow, full of satisfaction. “Make yourself useful. Take care of us, for a change.”

“That’s so unfair,” pouted Genesis, while gently cleaning Angeal’s abused hole with the towel. “I’m the omega. I’m the one who gets pampered. You two are supposed to be all stoic and alpha-y and I’m supposed to be the delicate, fragile one.”

Angeal scoffed audibly, while Sephiroth smiled lazily. “Yes, but aren’t you the one who always says it’s no fun doing what you’re _supposed_ to do, Genesis?”

* * *

About half an hour later, all of them were cleaned up, the sheets changed, and they settled in a warm, contented heap on Angeal’s bed. They each had their own bedroom, and often slept apart, but they also liked to cuddle together after sex or simply lazing about in bed on quiet mornings. Their beds were the largest they’d been able to find. Three SOLDIERS took up a lot of space.

Angeal was in the middle, currently, using Sephiroth’s shoulder as a pillow, with Genesis curled up against him on the other side.

“You know, Angeal, I can take over that training session for the Seconds tomorrow, if you want,” said Sephiroth. He still sounded a little guilty.

Angeal chuckled sleepily. “Nah. I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve got that meeting with Lazard, Heidegger and the Turks tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Oh, the Turks, that makes me think,” said Genesis, looking up. “Sephiroth, you know Tseng quite well, don’t you?”

“We’ve been working together for some time, yes. Why?”

“I was just wondering. Bumped into him at the party. I thought he was… nice, actually. I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him outside work. He’s funnier than I thought.”

Sephiroth nodded. “Yes, sometimes, he can be, I think. I don’t really know him outside of work, but he’s very intelligent. Analytical. Poised. Not at all like you.”

“You’re so mean to me tonight, Seph.”

“Am I? I thought I was the one who invited you to join in earlier. Besides, last week, you spent half your heat without me.”

“Because you were away! It’s not my fault my heat decided to start just the day they sent you half a continent away! What was I supposed to do, wait for you? Of course I was going to start early with Angeal.”

“Will you two stop bickering?” yawned Angeal. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Actually, speaking of heats, and Tseng, you know what I learned earlier, Seph?” said Genesis. “Tseng’s going to get one, but Rufus won’t spend it with him. Apparently he’s too busy or something. Tseng’s going to take the meds.”

“You two did have an interesting conversation, it seems.”

“Just… you know. Omega stuff. I just hate the way Rufus treats him.”

“Well… it’s very traditional, I suppose. But if it suits them both… They have a really strong bond, that much is obvious.”

“Yes. I just…” Genesis yawned. “I don’t know. I hate all this traditional bullshit. And honestly, I think Rufus Shinra’s a bit of a dick.”

“Good night, Genesis,” said Sephiroth pointedly. Angeal was already snoring softly.

“Night, Seph,” said Genesis, and he settled down into his pillow. But sleep wouldn’t come. He kept thinking of Tseng, of how his eyes had sparkled when he’d laughed behind his hand when they’d been joking, and how they’d turned dull and grey as soon as Rufus had appeared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, i’m playing a little fast and loose with the timeline here. I know, it’s not like anyone reads a/b/o for the accuracy anyway.  
> In my mind, Gen, Angeal and Sephiroth are 20-25, Rufus is 25, Tseng 30 at this point.  
> I don’t know where Cloud and Zack are. Maybe they’ll get involved later, who knows? Not me. I’m basically letting the characters run around in my mind and writing down the result.  
> But I’m not sure I could write anything about Zack. I love Zack, but I’m not sure I’m allowed to play with him. Aerith would get upset and I like my organs on the inside of my body.

Genesis was in the materia development lab when the call came.

He’d been helping the research team with some tricky materia fusion, and he was utterly engrossed in the delicate process when his PHS started ringing. There were only two people who weren’t on silent on his phone, and neither Angeal nor Sephiroth would ever call him while he was at work if it wasn’t a real emergency. He put down the Dark Firaga he was working on, excused himself curtly and looked at the screen. Sephiroth. He frowned and answered the phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Genesis. Can you come up to the 66th floor now, please? I need your help.” Sephiroth sounded tense. Genesis gestured to the researchers to get out of his way and started striding towards the elevators. This had to be serious.

“I’m on my way. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Tseng. Just get there as soon as you can. I’ll explain. We’re in meeting room 3.”

“Tseng?” Genesis's eyebrows shot up.

“Yes. I need you, Genesis.” Sephiroth hung up the phone. Frowning, Genesis got onto the elevator and pressed the button. Had something happened to Tseng? He’d seemed perfectly fine the night before.

He found the conference room floor in total disarray, with Shinra employees in dark grey suits running around with their hands full of documents and electronics, as though all their meetings had been cancelled at the same time. In the middle of the corridor stood Heidegger, arms crossed, looking furious.

“Rhapsodos,” he snapped. “Get in there and sort this mess out.”

“I’m a SOLDIER, Heidegger, I don’t answer to you.”

“Whatever. Just deal with it. Fucking omegas and their fucking heats,” he grumbled.

“What did you just say?” said Genesis, suddenly furious. He walked up to Heidegger and looked him full in the face.

“Bah. You heard me. Just get in there.”

Genesis was about to start screaming at him when Reno popped his head around the corner of the corridor. He was looking worried, maybe even a little scared. “Gen, you’re here? Never mind Heidegger. Come over.”

Genesis tore himself away from Heidegger. “What’s up?” he asked Reno as they both walked rapidly to the conference room at the end of the corridor.

“The boss. He’s really sick. I think it’s his heat, man. There’s something dead weird about it, I dunno. Anyway, all the alphas started behaving really weird during the meeting, then the boss collapsed, then Sephiroth told everyone on the floor to get out and said he was getting you. I’m allowed to stay, ‘cause you know. Beta. It’s not as bad, for me.” Reno shrugged. “Anyway, Sephiroth’s still in there, but if you want my opinion, he’d rather be elsewhere.”

“Yes, you’re probably right.” As they were getting closer, the smell was getting clearer. Distressed omega. Sick omega. Omega in pain. It was one of the strongest pheromone signals of all, a scent that spoke directly to the most primal parts of the brain. It especially wreaked havoc on alphas, who would often get completely irrational when confronted with the scent. Their instincts were that they had to right this, to act, to do something about it, anything, and it could very easily lead to arguments and fights if nothing was done about it.

Genesis found Sephiroth pacing in the conference room, his greatcoat swirling around his ankles. Sephiroth was one of the most controlled alphas Genesis had ever met, but even for him, this was clearly taking its toll. He sighed in relief when he saw Genesis. 

“Genesis. Good. I’m glad you’re here,” he said tersely, his voice strained. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with him?” 

“Where is he?” 

“Over there, by the wall. Reno helped me make sure he was lying down as comfortably as possible, but then he couldn’t stand it and had to leave.”

“Yes, I saw him outside.” Tseng was lying on the floor, on his side. His eyes were closed, his mouth half opened. He was breathing fast, shallowly.

Genesis knelt close to him and touched his forehead. His skin was burning. He examined him rapidly, casting a quick Scan while checking his vital signs. “I know what this is,” he said, looking up as Sephiroth. “I’ve seen it before. He’s having a bad reaction to the suppressants.”

“It’s what I thought.” Sephiroth looked even paler than usual. “I cast an Esuna to try to flush some of it from his body, but I don’t know how effective that was.”

“It probably helped. I’ll take care of him. Seph, you should get out. This isn’t good for you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, first thing, get him home. If you’ve already cleared him of poison, what he needs is rest and a comfortable place. Get out, Seph. I’ll deal with this.”

Sephiroth nodded, but he was clearly finding it hard to leave. The fingers of his left hand were clenching and unclenching as though he was dying to hold his sword and attack something, anything, as long as it made the terrible feeling of being next to a suffering omega go away.

“Tseng will be fine, Seph, I swear. Once the meds are out of his system, everything will be alright. He just needs a few hours to get back on his feet. Now get out of here. You’re in the way. I can’t help him if you’re here.”

That wasn’t technically true, and on some level, Sephiroth was probably aware of it, but it did the trick. Sephiroth hesitated another second, then seemed to suddenly get a hold of himself. He turned on his heels and left the room.

“Right,” said Genesis to himself. “Now to get you somewhere safe.”

He felt inside Tseng’s jacket to find his card key. Genesis’s opened most doors in the building, but certainly not the one to Rufus Shinra’s apartment, and that was where they were heading. He found it in his right pocket, opposite the holster with the heavy gun Tseng always carried around.

Carefully, he slid one hand under Tseng’s back and one behind his knees and lifted him. He felt oddly insubstantial in his arms. Tseng has such an impressive presence that he seemed physically imposing, but he was slight, compact muscle rather than bulk, it felt like. There was something delicate about him, and somehow, it struck Genesis as strangely appealing.

Carefully, trying his best not to cause Tseng any discomfort, he carried him out of the room.

* * *

Genesis had never been in Rufus Shinra’s private appartement, high up in the tower, but if he’d had to guess what it looked like, this is exactly what he would have imagined.

The place was modern and aggressively cold, all brushed steel and glass and cold grey stone. As soon as he walked in, he felt a chill, as though this was not a place meant to live in, but a place meant to impress and demonstrate power.

From the front door, he crossed a mostly empty marble floor hall, which led into a large living room - or rather, a reception room, meant for guests, not living. One of the walls was a full-length window, through which there was an uninterrupted view of the sky, grey and roiling with clouds.

There was a large, rectangular black leather couch. Carefully, Genesis put Tseng down and examined him again. His fever seemed to have gone down, and his eyes were fluttering as though he was close to waking. With a flick of his hand, Genesis cast another Esuna, just in case, and followed it with a Cure, watching the way the green eldritch light of the spell was absorbed by the Turk’s pale skin. He seemed much better now. Genesis went to look for a glass of water.

When he came back into the living room, Rufus Shinra was standing in the doorway, paused halfway through the act of removing his coat, a revolted expression on his face. “What in Gaia’s name is that hideous stench?”

“Ah. Vice-president,” said Genesis, and Rufus turned to face him with a displeased frown.

“Genesis? What are you doing in my home?”

“Taking care of your omega. Tseng is sick.”

“I can see that.” He wrinkled his aristocratic nose. “Gaia, that’s repulsive.”

“He’s not well. Go to him,” said Genesis, gesturing towards the Turk’s unconscious form. He was feeling a little outraged at Rufus’s lack of reaction. There was no way to keep Angeal or Sephiroth off him if he was even slightly hurt.

“I’m not a doctor,” frowned Rufus. “I don’t know how to treat sick omegas. What do you want me to do? What’s wrong with him, anyway?”

“It’s a bad reaction to the suppressants. He’s already getting better. He just needs to rest.”

“Oh. And why does he have to do that in the middle of my living room?”

“Because…” Genesis felt speechless. “This is his home?”

On the couch next to him, Tseng stirred, and pushed himself up painfully. “Genesis. Please. Don’t. I’ll just...go elsewhere.” 

“What? No! Rufus, what the hell? He needs to stay where he’s safe. His body is rejecting the suppressants. He’s going to go into heat any time.”

“And?” said Rufus coldly. “What do you want me to do about that? Tseng knows full well I don’t have the leisure to spend a week coddling him!”

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” said Tseng miserably. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m able to…”

“And I’m supposed to just stay here until then, with you reeking to high heaven? I won’t deal with this. I don’t have the time. This is why you’re supposed to be on suppressants, Tseng!”

“It’s the suppressants that made him ill in the first place, Rufus!”, snapped Genesis.

“Do not take this tone with me, Genesis,” snarled Rufus with surprising violence. “I am an alpha, and I will not be disrespected in my own house.”

Genesis fought the urge to bare his teeth back at him, all the more because Rufus's snarl had made a small primal part of him clench in instinctive fear. 

Alphas never used that tone of voice, the so-called alpha voice, at least not in any kind of normal setting. They were taught from a very young age to avoid it. It was necessary if alphas were going to live within a society where betas and omegas had equal rights, because an order with that tone of voice was impossible to resist, especially for an omega. Sephiroth had used it on him once, only once, during a fight against a two headed dragon. He'd wanted Genesis to move out of the way, and the force of the urge Genesis had felt, the speed with which he’d obeyed had terrified him. It was an atavistic instinct he hated above everything else, because it seemed to reduce him to a weak, needy omega, useless without his alpha. 

He had felt like clawing Sephiroth’s eyes out afterwards. They hadn’t spoken for a week, before Sephiroth finally apologised.

Rufus’s voice hadn’t been that strong, but it had been bad. Genesis clenched his fists in frustration. If he’d been alone, he’d probably have struck Rufus, alpha or not, but he couldn’t, not now.

Because of Tseng. What mattered was Tseng, who right now was visibly trembling. He’d cringed when Rufus had raised his voice, his head dipping in a fearful, apologetic gesture that made Genesis’s skin crawl. He had to get Tseng out, now, into a safe place. Somehow everything here was wrong, nothing felt the way it should. Their alpha’s den was supposed to be the safest place in the world, and Tseng was visibly afraid.

“Fine,” snapped Genesis. “Fine, if you’re not going to take care of him, I will. He’s coming with me.”

“I don’t care where he is, as long as he’s not here. He is of no use to me like this.”

Genesis felt the shiver of misery run through Tseng’s spine, even though he kept his face as neutral as possible. But from where Genesis was looking, very close to Tseng, it was impossible to ignore the tell-tale glint of tears between his eyelashes.

Even though Genesis wasn’t bonded, the very idea of one of his mates telling him something like that - _you’re of no use to me, you’re not wanted here_ \- caused something fundamental within him to revolt. Genesis knew he was able to take almost everything, but as an omega, the thought of being useless, unloved, unwanted was soul crushing, worse than anything. How Rufus could even stand to say something like that to his bonded omega was beyond him.

Tseng shifted, trying to get to his feet. He was looking at the floor, biting his lip painfully. Genesis slipped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“Fine. We’re leaving, then.”

Rufus shrugged and turned away from them, as though whatever the two omegas did was of no interest to him whatsoever.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no one in their apartment when Genesis entered, half-carrying Tseng. He seemed much better, but exhausted. Genesis put him down on their large sofa and covered him with one of their blankets, ignoring Tseng’s feeble assurances that he was fine. He went to pick up a pillow from his room, and when he came back, Tseng was already fast asleep, so deeply that he didn’t even react when Genesis lifted him to place the pillow under his head.

Genesis sat down in his armchair and stared at Tseng for a while. He still felt furious at Rufus’s unconscionable behaviour, but once again, this wasn’t the important thing, here. Tseng was. He now had an omega in his home, about to go into heat, and he’d have to do something about it. He had no plan. He just hoped he’d be able to do the right thing, when the time came, find some way to make Tseng feel safe. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. Not only did he know very little about the Turk in the first place, he also rarely interacted with other omegas to begin with. They were rare at Shinra, him and TSeng being the two most prominent examples. Any other omegas you might encounter were wives and companions, civilians, and Genesis had very little to do with civilians in general.

He tried to distract himself by reading a scholarly article he’d printed for himself during a lull at work a few days ago, something about the identification of a possible new intertextual reference in Act III. It didn’t sound entirely convincing to him, but there were so many possible interpretations of Loveless that it was interesting nonetheless. If there was something to it, it might change the meaning of a couple of lines entirely, in fact.

He looked up after a while to see Tseng sitting up, visibly trying to gather himself together. It was as though you could see him snapping back, piece by piece, into his usual impeccable form, back ramrod straight, face unreadable. The only thing that was out of place was his suit, uncharacteristically crumpled. 

“Genesis,” he said. “Thank you for your help. I’ll go, now.”

“You will do no such thing,” said Genesis, putting down his papers.

“I know you mean well, but I can deal with this on my own. I’m feeling much better already. I’ll deal with this on my own.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not going anywhere.”

“You helped me earlier, and I thank you for that. But this is… inappropriate,” said Tseng, avoiding Genesis’s eyes.

“Yes, well you know what? Fuck that. I get told I’m inappropriate all the time. What’s your plan, then? Where are you going to go?”

“I can find somewhere to isolate myself.”

“In this building?” Genesis leant forward. “You want to run the risk of someone finding the head of the Turks in the middle of a heat, when you’re desperate and begging for cock?” This was blunt, but he wanted to get the point across.

“I…” Tseng flushed. “I’m bonded.”

“Yes, I know. But even so, you know very well there are alphas that won’t stop. And betas don’t even feel bonds, but they react to an omega in heat as well. And you know how you’ll get. You’ll beg for it even though you don’t even want any alpha except yours.”

“I can control myself.”

“Really?” Genesis raised an eyebrow. “How long has it been since you had a full heat?”

“Well… a while now, that’s true. They interfere with my duties. Rufus needs me to be functional.”

“You have spent heats with him, though, haven’t you?”

“Yes. At first, we’d always spend them together. But then… you know how things are in this company.” Tseng bit his lip. “Rufus's position is hardly secure. There are many people who would love to get rid of him, including the President. He can’t let his guard down, and I have to be able to protect him.”

“Is that so,” said Genesis, sounding very unconvinced. “Well, if you haven’t had one in years, you know what that means? That this one is about to hit you like a sledgehammer. You can’t deal with this alone. You won’t be rational, you won’t be able to control yourself, you’ll end up doing something you’ll regret. And you know very well it can hit you at any time. So… you can leave if you want, of course, and maybe you’ll make it somewhere safe without problems. Just so you know, though, I can smell your scent from here, and given how sweet you smell to me, you’re lucky I’m an omega. It’s already starting.”

Tseng bit his lip again, but said nothing.

“Or you can stay here. You’ll be safe. No one will bother you. You can stay in my room.”

“And your alphas?” asked Tseng.

“My alphas know how to behave. They’ll stay away from you. They’re good alphas, Tseng, you can trust them. And anyway…” he smirked. “What makes you think I’d let you near them? They’re mine. No, don’t worry. They’ll stay away. So. Are you going to stay here, or not?”

“It…” Tseng hesitated. “It does seem like the most reasonable course of action, yes.”

“Right. You see? I’m always right. Come, I’ll show you my room, then you can go have a bath and put on something nice so you’ll be comfortable when it hits you.”

“I do look like a bit of a mess, don’t I?” Tseng looked ruefully as his crumpled suit.

“Well, I don’t think you’re even capable of looking like a mess. Even when passed out on a conference floor, you managed to look more put together than Angeal does on his best days. But yes, that suit definitely needs a dry cleaning.” Genesis smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Right, follow me.”

He walked out. Tseng was following him, which was a good sign. “Right. This is my room,” he said, when they reached the end of the corridor, and flung open the door.

Tseng blinked. “It’s… very you.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? But you’ll see. It’s fantastic for nesting.” 

Genesis’s biggest indulgence, his large four poster bed, stood in the center of the wall, wine-red, velvet drapes hanging heavily from the canopy. The bedframe was very low, the deep fitted carpet soft and thick, comfortable to lie on. This was his own space, made for comfort and nesting, for curling up, safe and protected. His alphas would never step inside his den uninvited, mindful of the fact omegas could be fiercely territorial sometimes.

He turned to Tseng. “How do you like to nest, by the way?”

Tseng shook his head “I… don’t nest.”

“Why ever not?” Genesis tilted his head to the side.

“It takes up a lot of room. It gets in the way. And… we don’t really need nests, do we?”

“Well, we don’t really need a lot of things, but we still do them if they feel good, don’t we? Listen, how about I show you how I build mine, and you’ll tell me if you like it. If we don’t, we’ll build another one together.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“A bother? Are you kidding? I love building nests. And that way, we’ll have a nice, comfortable place to stay together.”

“You’re going to stay here as well? Genesis, you can’t be serious.”

“What do you mean? Of course I will most certainly stay with you. Your alpha better give me the extra vacation days. I’m certainly not leaving an omega on its heat alone in my apartment!”

“I wouldn’t disturb anything.”

“What? That’s not what I meant! You need someone with you. Spending a heat alone is the most depressing, the loneliest, saddest thing I can think of. I’m not going to dump you in here with a box of dildos and leave you alone!”

“Genesis!” said Tseng, sounding shocked. 

“What? Come on.” Genesis sat down on his bed “Like dildos are such a bad thing. I have lots, you know.” 

That made Tseng smile “Even with your two alphas?”

“Yes! It’s not the same thing, is it? Besides… who says you can’t use them _on_ the alphas?”

Tseng made a shocked little noise, half cough, half laugh, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “Genesis, you can’t….” He looked up suspiciously. “Wait. Are you just saying that to get a reaction out of me?”

“Well, partly. You’re surprisingly easy to shock, for a trained assassin.”

“That’s not what Turks are.”

“Really? You could have fooled me. Don’t worry, we won’t use anything that makes you uncomfortable if you don’t want to.” He went to open his closet. “Let me show you the nesting stuff. You can tell me if there’s something missing or something you’d like, I can send the alphas to pick it up. I know they’re going to want to help, the great useless lumps. It’s lucky, all my blankets are fresh from the wash, I didn’t get the boys to scent them yet, so they shouldn’t turn you off…” He pulled out a few things he thought might work well. “I don’t have a lot of colours, though. I know some omegas like soft, pastel things, but…” He shrugged. “It’s not really my thing. I have a lot of red, some black, and some white. I get Angeal to scent the black ones and Seph the white ones.”

Tseng surveyed the growing mountain of blankets and pillows pouring out of the closet. “It seems like… a very well organised system,” he murmured.

“Isn’t it?” Genesis smiled. “So. What colours do you like? I’ve always seen you wear black or dark blue, but that’s a Turk thing, isn’t it?”

“Anything will be fine, Genesis.”

“Black, maybe? We’ll go with black for now, and then we’ll see how you feel.”

He chose a selection of blankets, some light and fluffy, some heavy, thick and luxurious to bury under. He also picked out some thin, sleek silk sheets, so smooth they felt cold to the touch, that were wonderful to drape over oneself when feeling overheated. Then of course, there were pillows, mostly large and soft, that Genesis usually used to build a kind of wall all around himself. Sometimes he would even addi a blanket on top to create something that looked a little like a fort a child would build, but felt like heaven when his heat made the world feel horribly large and empty.

“You have a lot of things,” remarked Tseng.

“Yes. I like my heats, actually. Not just the sex part. I like indulging in them. I like feeling all decadent and luxurious in my lovely nest and just enjoy the feeling of it as it builds within me, when it’s just starting and I don’t want anyone with me at first. I like that it’s my place, that I decide when to let the alphas in. They don’t even get close to my nest unless I tell them they can. Sometimes I don’t let them in at all, if I don’t feel like it.”

“I always thought a nest was a mostly for sex.”

“Not for me. I usually build it in the corner, over there, so the bed’s free for other activities. The nest is for… sleeping. Nesting. Just curling up and feeling good. You’ll see..”

“Genesis... I’m sure your nests are wonderful, but I don’t need one. It doesn’t matter.”

“You know what?” Genesis looked up, piqued. “It does, though. People who say that it doesn’t matter are the one who like to devalue everything we do as pointless hormonal bullshit. Let me let you in on a little secret. We don’t have to apologise for being in heat, or wanting to nest, or wanting an alpha we like to be around when we want them to be. We’re omegas. We don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Tseng sighed. “Your upbringing was probably very different from mine.”

“Perhaps, but mostly… I think it’s just that at some point, I stopped listening when people tried to tell me what I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to behave. I had Angeal, and his was the only opinion that mattered. The rest was just noise.”

“Where I come from…,” said Tseng. “It’s a very traditional part of Wutai. Extreme, maybe. After I presented at thirteen, that was it. I was marked as omega.” His hand brushed the dot on his forehead, briefly. “And from that day on I wasn’t supposed to set foot outside the omega quarters. My father was wealthy. We had a full omega enclosure inside the property. It even had its own garden. And… I was just supposed to wait there, until my father picked a suitable alpha for me. Then I’d move to another omega quarter, in someone else’s house, forever.”

“I take it you didn’t, then.”

“No.” Tseng shook his head. “I ran away. I ended up in Midgar, and found a job at Shinra. I’d been well educated, because my father expected me to be an alpha, so I did well.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement, isn’t it? Head of the Turks… especially as an omega.”

“I didn’t hide my gender. But I tried to make it as unobtrusive as possible. It became a lot simpler after Rufus marked me.”

The mention of Rufus grated on Genesis’s nerves, but he tried not to let it show. “How old were you?”

“Old, to be marked, at least amongst my people. Twenty-three. Rufus had just turned eighteen. I wouldn’t let him touch me, before. He’s a good alpha, Genesis. He’s just… he’s got a lot on his mind. He doesn’t have time to indulge in this kind of thing.”

“Well, I don’t think you really want to hear what I think about him right now.” Genesis shook his head. “We’ll just worry about you. How are you feeling? Do you want something to drink? Food?”

Tseng was looking at the pile of soft furnishings with a thoughtful look on his face. “Actually, if you didn’t mind, I’d like a cup of tea, yes.”

“Ok! Just stay in here. Look around and pick out anything from that closet that feels good to you, all right?”

Tseng nodded. He looked tired, and miserable, and out of place. Just looking at him made something within Genesis ache in sympathy. He tried to smile reassuringly. “You’ll see. Everything will be fine. It’ll be fun.”


	5. Chapter 5

Genesis was In the kitchen, pondering the teas, when Angeal came in. He did a kind of double-take and stared at Genesis, a surprised expression on his face.

“You’re not in heat again, are you? It smells…” He shook his head. “Hang on. Is there another omega in here?”

“Yes. Tell me, Ang, what kind of tea do you think Tseng drinks?”

“Tseng! That’s who it is. I couldn’t quite place the scent. Why is Tseng in here? Why does he smell like he’s in heat?”

“Because he is. Well, he’s going to be. The tea, Ang.”

“What?” said Angeal, distracted.

“The tea. What kind of tea do you think Tseng likes?”

“Uh. I’ve seen him drink green tea, I think?” Angeal looked confused. “What the hell is going on?”

“Listen, Ang, I’m busy. Ask Seph when he gets back. I’m going to take care of Tseng through his heat, so you know. Stay out of my room. Okay?” said Genesis, while selecting one of their nicest green tea, light and fragrant with only the slightest hint of bitterness, and rapidly preparing it.

“What? No, not okay! What’s going on?”

“Sorry, darling.” Genesis kissed Angeal briefly on the mouth and picked up the tea. “No time. I just want to get him nice and settled. I’ll come back and explain later. Trust me?”

“Every time you’ve said that, it’s been a disaster.”

“Not always. Remember when I told you about Seph? I was right, wasn’t I?”

“That one time.”

“Trust me,” repeated Genesis firmly. “I promise I’ll explain everything. But now I have to go. Love you.”

* * *

Tseng was in the bedroom, still looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, but he’d removed his tie and jacket, at least.

“Angeal’s back,” said Genesis, handing Tseng the tea. “Don’t worry, he’ll stay away. Right. What you should do is drink your tea and go have a bath. I have some unscented products I use after heats. That’s probably best for you right now. And don’t worry, it’s my bathroom. No one will come in.”

“This is nice tea,” Tseng remarked.

“Is it? Angeal said you liked green tea.” Genesis rummaged through the cupboard again, pulling out simple, soft black pyjamas. “You can wear those. They might be a little big, but it won’t be too bad. Right. Anything else you need?”

“No. Thank you, Genesis, you’re being extremely thoughtful.”

“Am I? That doesn’t sound like me. I don’t know, I’m just enjoying this. I don’t get to spend that much time with other omegas”. As he said it, he realised it was the truth, strange as it sounded.

* * *

He left Tseng to his own devices and went back to see Angeal. Sephiroth was back, both of them leaning against the counter, sipping a glass of whisky in silence. 

“You want a glass, Gen?,” asked Angeal as Genesis walked in.

“Yes, please. What’s the occasion?”

“It helps with the scent,” said Sephiroth. “Thank you for helping earlier, Genesis. There were far too many alphas in there. It was a volatile situation”

“Really? Was it that bad?” asked Angeal. “I’ve seen sick omegas before. It’s not good, but… people usually manage to stay calm, don’t they?”

Sephiroth paused, thinking, tapping his finger lightly against his glass. “Do you remember that time, in Wutai, when Genesis's leg was broken in three places and I had to set it before we could heal him?”

“Oh gods, yes.” Angeal visibly blanched. “It can’t possibly have been that bad?”

“It was about the same, I’d say.”

“Oh. That bad?” Angeal winced. “Yes, I guess that would be a problem. I remember wanting to rip your throat out to get at Gen. On some level I knew you were helping him, but…”

“Actually, I remember you _trying_ to rip my throat out, Angeal.”

“Yes. Not my finest hour. Is Tseng okay now?” 

Genesis nodded. “Yes. He’s just going into heat.”

“That much is obvious.” Sephiroth frowned. “What is he doing here, Genesis?”

“Oh, that? Yeah, nothing. Just that his dick of an alpha is apparently too busy to take care of him. So I offered. Are you guys going to be okay with it?” Despite all his trust in Angeal and Sephiroth, despite all his speeches to Rufus, Genesis was suddenly very aware that he had brought an omega in heat into two alphas’ den. “I mean… I don’t react like you two. He smells nice to me, but that’s about it. I don’t know what it’s like for you.”

“He smells good, and to be honest, it’s arousing. But he also smells very bonded,” said Sephiroth.

“Yeah, it’s hard to describe. I don’t know.” Angeal shrugged. “Sort of… sexy, but taken.”

“What, he smells like Rufus, to you?” asked Genesis.

Angeal shook his head. “No. It’s different. He smells like an omega in heat, but with something missing. Unbonded omegas, they always smell inviting, but with a bonded omega, especially when they’re really strongly bonded, the way Tseng is, you don’t feel the same way. It’s like you can watch, but not touch. You’re not invited.”

Sephiroth nodded. “Apparently, it’s due to the fact that most of the only pheromones they give out are the ones their mates are specifically receptive to.” 

“Yeah.” Angeal paused, seeming to consider it. “It’s… I don’t know, like a secret language between them, or something.”

Genesis tilted his head to the side “Do you wish you had that with me?” he asked, hoping he sounded flippant and not vaguely insecure.

“I don’t think we’d want you to be any different than you are,” said Sephiroth.

“That’s true, but…” Angeal looked at the floor. “Well, if I have to be completely honest... When it was just the two of us, sometimes it would piss me off, to see another alpha looking at you and knowing what was probably going through their mind. That they thought they might have a chance with you. I just wanted to tell them no, he’s mine, go away.” 

He shook his head. “I know it’s selfish, but… Sometimes, all I wanted to do was mark you. So no one would even dare to look at you.” He sighed. “And then… you know. We met Seph. I saw you fall for him, and I hated it, and at the same time, I felt myself wanting Seph in a way I’d never wanted another alpha before, and that was a whole mess at first, wasn’t it? “

Sephiroth nodded. “It was. If it helps, I’d never felt attracted to an alpha before either.”

Angeal smiled, a little tensely. “It helps. I…” He hesitated. “Well, it’s obvious why anyone would want Genesis, look at him. He’s stunning. He’s an omega. He’s perfect. But me…”

Genesis put his arms around him without letting him finish, burying his face in Angeal’s broad back. He felt Sephiroth embrace Angeal from the other side. “You are perfect,” they both said, in almost perfect unison, and held him between them. 

Angeal chuckled. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to feel sorry, darling,” said Genesis, giving him a quick kiss on the back of his neck. “Just… know that we love you, all right?”

“Angeal…” murmured Sephiroth. He placed a finger under Angeal’s chin, raising it so their eyes met. “Genesis is right. Of course we love you. Do you think I’d spread my legs for any other alpha?”

“Well, if you ask me, you don’t spread your legs for me nearly often enough,” said Angeal, a little grumpily, but there was a small smile playing on his lips.

“Really?” Sephiroth purred. “That sounds terribly remiss of me. How about we remedy that later tonight?”

“Really?” Angeal grinned. “You _are_ demanding, lately.”

“Well…” Sephiroth smirked. “I did miss half of Genesis’s heat, you know.”

“Again, none of that was my fault, and you can’t keep using the same excuse, Seph!” said Genesis with a frown.

“Really? But it worked so well the first time…”

“Yes, but stop blaming your horniness on me. If you want to get in Angeal’s pants, that’s fine, but don’t try to make it my fault!” Genesis let Angeal go and hopped on to the kitchen counter. He sipped at his drink. “Anyway, back to Tseng. If you two make some food later, can you leave some in the fridge for us? I don’t think Tseng should be hungry this early in his heat, but I don’t know what he’s like...”

“Are you going to... you know, help him through it?” asked Angeal.

“Yes. Do you mind?”

“No. It’s different, isn't it, when it’s two omegas?”

Sephiroth nodded, as though he knew exactly what Angeal meant. “Very different.”

“It's…” Angeal looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. Sort of harmless. Cute.”

“What exactly do you mean, Angeal?” said, Genesis, his eyes suddenly narrowed. “Do I look _cute_ or _harmless_ to you?”

“Seph, do I have to answer?” Angeal looked around in panic.

Sephiroth shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I would strongly advise you not to.”

“I will burn you to a crisp, Angeal Hewley. We’ll see who’s _cute_ then.”

“Okay, okay!” Angeal raised his hands in surrender. “Not cute. It’s just that… honestly, I don’t mind. I think I would mind very much if an alpha helped you through one of your heats, but… an omega, that sounds acceptable. And also, vaguely hot?”

Genesis cocked his head. “Have you been watching some soft-core omega on omega action again, Ang?”

“No! Well, maybe. I’m only human. It’s… an alpha thing. It’s not my fault! Ask Seph!”

Sephiroth raised his hand to his lips thoughtfully. “It does seem to be a fairly common fetish amongst most alphas, yes, I would say,” he said in a detached tone.

“Seph! Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean!”

“You asked me if it was ‘an alpha thing’. I answered. Besides, you know very well I don’t watch porn. Well, unless it’s Genesis sending us some lewd videos of himself,” Sephiroth said, sounding particularly virtuous.

“You traitor. I’ll remember this,” said Angeal with a murderous look.

“You two look like you’re going to have fun tonight.” Genesis put his drink down and sauntered down. “I’ll see what I can do for Tseng.”

“I’m sorry we can’t help you with this, Genesis,” said Sephiroth.

“You know… I don’t really mind. It’s Tseng, after all. He’s… well, let’s face it, he’s extremely attractive. And you know…” added Genesis thoughtfully. “I’m curious what he looks like, when he’s needy and desperate. I bet he’s hot as fuck. Can you imagine, Tseng, of all people, begging to be filled?”

There was a silence. The alphas looked at each other.

“Did you really _have_ to say that, Genesis?” asked Sephiroth. His cheeks were slightly pink.

“Sorry,” said Genesis, absolutely not sorry at all. “Anyway, have fun, you two!” he said cheerfully, and with a slightly evil grin, he closed the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : this chapter follows Sephiroth and Angeal for a little while, and there is some fairly explicit BDSM. Please be advised if this isn't your thing!

Neither of them felt particularly hungry about that. They stood in silence for a while, looking at their glass, pondering. Then Angeal broke the silence.

“Bedroom?” he asked.

Sephiroth nodded. “Yes.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.”

That was interesting, thought Angeal. He wondered whether it meant Sephiroth was in the same mood as he was. There were certain things in Sephiroth’s bedroom, things Angeal stored there, and that they only ever used when it was just the two of them.

Angeal closed the bedroom door behind them. Sephiroth’s was the barest of their three bedrooms. He tended not to accumulate possessions. The only object he ever cared about was Masamune, really. His bedroom was white and minimalist, almost spartan in its sparseness.

“So. Genesis is busy, and you’re horny, is that it?”

Sephiroth smiled. “If that’s how you want to put it, yes. Why, do you want to do something about it?” There was a challenge in the curve of his lip. 

Angeal smiled. “Yes. But I’m not going to let you have it your way like last night, I warn you.”

“Really? Interesting…” said Sephiroth, his voice purr-like.

“Tell me, Sephiroth…” Angeal traced the curve of Sephiroth’s cheek. “What do you want? Do you want to _play_ , tonight?”

A shiver ran visibly down Sephiroth’s spine.

“Yes.”

“Soft or hard, darling?”

Sephiroth’s eyes met Angeal’s. “Hard, please,” he breathed 

Suddenly the mood between them was different, charged with electricity. It was as though a switch had been flicked, and suddenly every gesture meant danger as well as desire, and the mixture was intoxicating.

“Please what?” said Angeal, narrowing his eyes. The hand he’d been using to stroke Sephiroth’s cheek turned into a claw, gripping Sephiroth’s throat.

“Please, Sir,” said Sephiroth, his beautiful jade eyes flicking down for a second.

“Good. And are you going to behave for me, Sephiroth?”

“Yes, Sir,” his voice slightly breathy.

“Will you let me collar you?” asked Angeal. He tried his best to keep his tone light, so Sephiroth wouldn’t feel like he had to agree. Angeal only wanted to do this if Sephiroth was truly, entirely willing. But at the same time, he wanted him to say yes so very badly he didn’t know what he would do if Sephiroth said no.

“Yes,” said Sephiroth, in a whisper. His eyes stayed on Angeal’s, his cat-like pupils already wide with need.

“Then you know what you have to do.” Angeal’s voice assumed a tone that he never used outside those sessions with Sephiroth, not even when commanding his own men. With his troops, he always tried to be encouraging, forgiving. But with Sephiroth, when they played, he let all that drop. His orders were absolute. “Get naked.”

Sephiroth was wearing a standard First Class uniform, without the pauldrons or harness, as he often did when they were at home. Swiftly, he pulled off his sleeveless shirt, folding in neatly automatically, years of military training kicking in. Then he slipped off his slacks and underwear in one swift, graceful gesture, and folded them in the same neat pile.

And there he was, naked, achingly beautiful, his heavy cock already half-hard between his legs. But that wasn’t the point. Not yet, anyway. 

Angeal looked at him, letting himself admire what was in front of him. Sephiroth naked was a work of art, absolutely perfect, unmarred, hairless save for a tuft of silver-white hair at his crotch. His skin was the color of the most precious marble, inhuman in its very perfection, and yet it looked soft and inviting.

But this was not the time for touching, yet. They had a lot of time before that.

“Eyes down,” he ordered.

Sephiroth lowered his eyes, but said nothing. 

So, this was how it was going to go, then? thought Angeal to himself. If Sephiroth was going to be difficult, then Angeal would have to be particularly strict. This was good. This was what he really enjoyed, making Sephiroth submit despite himself. Giving him what he really needed even though he would never ask for it himself.

He raised his hand and slapped Sephiroth across the left cheek, enough to sting but not hurt him. Not yet. “What do you say when I ask you to do something, Sephiroth?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Sephiroth, his breath catching slightly in his throat. His cheek was turning red, a clear imprint of Angeal’s hand visible on his skin.

“Good boy,” said Angeal approvingly. “On your knees.”

Slowly, gracefully, Sephiroth sank down to his knees, his eyes down, his head lowered. With his hair falling down his back, he would have looked exactly like a statue of a praying angel, if it hadn’t been for his cock, jutting in front of him, swollen, its reddening tip already weeping a few drops of pre-come.

Angeal prodded at it carelessly with his foot. “We’re going to have to do something about that.” He remarked. “I don’t intend to let you come until you deserve it.”

“Yes, Sir,”said Sephiroth, his voice strained, as Angeal pressed mercilessly on his swollen cock, hard enough to hurt, and at the same time not enough to satisfy.

“Good. Now stay here while I get your collar.”

He turned away, deliberately not sparing a last look at Sephiroth. Angeal could hear him breathing, already sounding a little out of breath. He went to open the chest Sephiroth kept in his room, a military-grade box with a fingerprint lock that only Angeal could open. It held the small collection of objects he kept specially for his play sessions with Sephiroth. Almost none of it had been specifically designed for this kind of play. The wonderful thing with SOLDIER bodies was that they were much more resilient and could take much harsher treatment. 

And Sephiroth was even more resilient than the others. He healed extremely fast, and his skin would never scar. Angeal had witnessed it many times, on the battlefield, seeing Sephiroth recover in hours from slashes and burns that might have crippled a lesser man. 

He’d also witnessed it here, during their play, and for a second, his hand caressed the razor-sharp wutaian knife he liked to use, a small, wicked thing, made of a dark, dull metal that seemed to absorb light. But cutting was an exercise in self-control and trust, slow and deliberate, and that was definitely not what Angeal was in the mood for tonight.

Instead, he picked out the heavy black collar he had made with his own hands for Sephiroth, spending long hours at camp during missions carefully crafting the leather until it was as soft and strong as he wanted it to be. The buckle had been taken from one of Sephiroth’s old coats - whoever was in charge of designing Sephiroth’s uniform had, in Angeal’s opinion, impeccable tastes -, but the ring hanging from the middle, that had been taken from one of Angeal’s own pieces of armour. He picked it up lovingly, then carefully chose a few more items from his collection to bring back with him. 

He walked slowly back to Sephiroth, who hadn’t moved, still kneeling in front of the bed. 

“Lift your hair,” he commanded. Sephiroth raised both hands behind his neck gracefully, gathering the mass of silver strands and baring the surprisingly delicate line of his long neck.

Angeal sighed. “You really are asking to be punished, tonight, aren’t you?” He grabbed a fistful of Sephiroth’s hair and yanked his head back, hard. “What do you say, Sephiroth, when I give you an order?”

“Yes, Sir,” hissed Sephiroth between clenched teeth.

“Good. Don’t forget it.” He let Sephiroth’s hair go and slipped the collar around his neck. “I’m going to buckle this now. Do you know what it means?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me.”

“It means I submit to you fully. It means as long as this collar is around my neck, your orders are absolute.”

“And you agree to this?”

“Yes.”

This had become their routine, this exchange of questions and answers. It had taken many fights and heartaches to get them here, to this safe place where they could both indulge in needs they hadn’t even realised they’d had before they were together. The need to control. The need to surrender. 

Angeal closed the collar, locking it so it was snug against Sephiroth’s skin, almost tight enough to bite into the skin. Everytime he did that, he felt deeply emotional, a lump rising in his throat at the thought of the trust his lover placed in him.

“Anytime you want me to stop, I’ll stop. I’ll take this off, and it’ll be over. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” whispered Sephiroth. He shivered as Angeal traced the skin above the collar with one finger lightly.

“What will you say if you want me to stop, Sephiroth?”

“Bahamut.” Sephiroth lips curved up in a minute smile. That word was a souvenir of one of the worst fights they’d had, on a mission together, at the very beginning of their relationship. An almighty row that had abruptly been brought to an end by the apparition of the mythical beast.

“Very good. Now stand up. Arms behind your back.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Sephiroth, standing parade perfect, back straight, and clasped behind his back, eyes to the front. 

“Good. I’m going to do something about this, now, “ said Angeal, grabbing Sephiroth’s cock and balls roughly. He picked up a small harness, also something he’d made himself out of scraps of armour, two leather rings linked by a strap of leather. The slightly larger ring went around Sephiroth’s balls, tight and snug, the second as the base of his cock. That ring was almost two fingers wide, enough to cover entirely the slightly thicker section where his knot would form when he was close to orgasm. To his satisfaction, Sephiroth didn’t move an inch, just stayed perfectly still. Even his breathing was controlled, slow and even.

“Now. What is this for?” asked Angeal, picking up one of the items he’d picked, a black leather belt, supple and shiny. That had been liberated from one of Sephiroth’s uniforms during a memorable heated interlude on a mission, and Angeal had kept it, preciously, not only because it was perfectly suited to its use but because of the memories it held.

“It’s for punishment, Sir.”

“Good.” He folded the belt in his hand and used it to stroke Sephiroth’s chest slowly. “And do you think you deserve to be punished?”

“Yes, Sir,” breathed Sephiroth, his eyes flicking down for a second.

“Why?”

“I… was disrespectful.”

“Yes, you were. Very much so. What did you do wrong?”

“I forgot to call you Sir, earlier.”

“True. But you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Slowly, he circled around Sephiroth, still stroking him with the belt, through the thick curtain of straight white hair, on his back, his thighs, his buttocks. “A small offense like that… you know very well you’d get a few licks and be done with it. That isn’t punishment, is it?”

Sephiroth swallowed. “No, Sir.”

“And I’m not here to entertain you. I’m here to punish you. Because this is what you need.” Without warning, he brought the folded belt hard on Sephiroth’s buttock, with a loud crack. Sephiroth didn’t flinch, but breathed out in a kind of strangled gasp. “You disrespected me in front of Genesis, Sephiroth. That…” he brought the belt down again, on the exact same spot. “...that deserves punishment, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Sir,” answered Sephiroth, his voice strained. Angeal let his hand run along Sephiroth’s smooth skin, feeling the red welt already rising where he’d hit him. That belt hurt, thin and heavy as it was. It would bite into the skin mercilessly with its hard edges. Angeal always preferred to keep it folded in two, like a strap, but it would sting as hard as a whip when he used his full strength.

“Thirty lashes,” Angeal growled. This might be pushing it, they hadn’t gone over twenty before. Even though Sephiroth had a high tolerance for pain, he wasn’t impervious to it. It would hurt. But Angeal believed he could take it.

Sephiroth stayed perfectly impassive. “Yes, Sir.”

“You will stand, hands clasped behind your neck, feet apart. Get your hair out of the way. You will count each stroke. If you say anything else, you will get punished with two extra lashes. Whatever happens, you will keep this position. If you take a step forward, two extra lashes as well. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sephiroth shifted in one fluid motion, assuming the position, his legs spread slightly wider than his hips. He pushed his waist-long hair to one side, letting it fall in front of his chest, revealing the line of his back, the graceful swell of his buttocks.

This was one of the hardest positions to hold, the instinct being to curl up, to flee the sting, to move away from the source of the pain. It was all about choice, acceptance, a pain freely given and freely accepted.

This was not how they always did things. Sometimes, quite often in fact, Angeal revelled in tying Sephiroth as securely as possible, taking away all responsibility from him. He knew how safe that could make Sephiroth feel when he was tired of commanding, of being in charge, of being obeyed.

Tonight, that wasn’t what Angeal wanted. He wanted obedience, he wanted to take Sephiroth far from his comfort zone, push him as far as he dared, force him to acknowledge that he wasn’t perfect and untouchable but vulnerable, fallible, and loved nonetheless, not despite of it, but because of it.

“Do you accept your punishment?” he asked, his voice as cold as he could make it.

“Yes, Sir.” Sephiroth’s eyes were lowered beneath his long eyelashes.

“Good.” He brought the belt up to Sephiroth’s lips for him to kiss, and at the moment the leather touched his lips, Sephiroth glanced up for a second. There was a challenge dancing in his eyes, and something else, a hint of uncertainty, not enough to be called fear. But it was promising.

The first fifteen or so blows Angeal applied slowly, methodically, concentrating on the pattern of crisscrossing lines he was building on that white skin. Sephiroth counted each blow, his voice perfectly steady and controlled. 

When they reached the halfway point, there was even a hint of cockiness in the way he said “fifteen”, as though to say “is that all you have?”. 

Angeal smiled to himself. He stopped his steady rhythm to stroke Sephiroth’s reddened skin with the palm of his hand. It felt hot to the touch, nicely sensitised. He smirked and took a step back and _hit_ , hard, this time, much harder than he would ever have dared hit any other human being.

Sephiroth inhaled sharply despite himself. Angeal saw the muscles in Sephiroth's back tense for a second, then relax as he spoke. “Sixteen.” His voice would have sounded neutral to almost anyone else, but Angeal could hear the slight hint of surprise, shock even.

He kept up the same rhythm for a few more blows, a hard strike, a soft stroke of his hand, until Sephiroth’s breathing started to sound ragged, his shoulders tensing in anticipation of the blow. There was a faint sheen to his skin, now. He was sweating.

Angeal smiled again, then struck twice in rapid succession, as hard as possible. Then a pause, barely long enough to let Sephiroth breathe and count those last two strokes - they were up to twenty-five, now - and another strike, aiming for the sensitive area just at the limit between his thighs and his ass. 

Sephiroth gasped and staggered forward, his right foot looking for purchase in front of him.

“I told you not to move,” said Angeal coldly. “Two more.” 

Sephiroth inhaled sharply and shifted his leg back. His thigh was trembling. A small drop of blood was running slowly down his leg, leaving a faint trace behind it. The belt must have torn his skin on the last blow. With anyone else, Angeal would have stopped there, would have felt he’d gone too far, but this was Sephiroth.

“Stand up straight,” he growled.

The second Sephiroth was back in position, he hit again, as hard as he could, exactly on the same spot, twice more.

Sephiroth fell to one knee. “Angeal!” he gasped, a shocked, pleading sound.

“Four more,” said Angeal, implacable. He reached around with the folded belt, lifting Sephiroth’s chin with it as he knelt, panting in pain. “Do you deserve them?” Angeal asked. There was a pause. He felt, through the leather, Sephiroth swallow against the belt.

“Yes, Sir,” answered Sephiroth in a whisper.

“Do you want them?” 

“Yes, Sir” said Sephiroth.

“Do you _need_ them?” growled Angeal.

“Yes,” whispered Sephiroth in a broken voice, and in that second, his need was total, raw and absolute.

Angeal stepped back. Now that they’d reached this point, now that he’d brought him to the very brink of what he could stand, Sephiroth would never forgive him if he went easy on him.

“Stand up. You have eight lashes left. You will stand, and you will take them. All of them. Won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Sephiroth in that broken voice, and he had to push, physically push himself back up to his feet using both arms. He took a trembling breath, pushed his hair out of the way once more, and locked his hands at the nape of his head.

“Good. You don’t have to count those.”

Counting was an anchor, and he wanted Sephiroth adrift now. There was no other noise than the hiss of the belt through the air, the hard crack it made as it landed, and the pained sounds Sephiroth made, convulsive gasps as he struggled to breathe. Time seemed to have stopped, even though Angeal still kept a count in his head. The world seemed empty except for the two of them and this gift of pain and submission.

Angeal applied the last lick and paused. He took a step back, to survey his work. Sephiroth’s skin was bright red, a confusion of raised welts, dotted with pinpricks of blood from crushed capillaries, but no tear apart from the small one he’d noticed earlier. He circled slowly until he faced Sephiroth.

Sephiroth hadn’t relaxed yet, still holding the position, still waiting for another blow, his mind too overwhelmed to be able to think anymore. His eyes were closed, dark grey eyelashes shining with tears. As Angeal watched, one of the trapped droplets detached itself and ran down his cheek, shining in the light.

Angeal caught it with his thumb, stroking his cheek. “Good boy,” he said, and to his own surprise his voice caught in his throat, as though he might start crying himself. 

Sephiroth sagged with relief against him and Angeal caught him, holding him close, kissing his mouth, his eyes, his tears, as Sephiroth trembled in his arms. “Good boy. You did so well, Sephiroth.” Sephiroth sank to his knees and Angeal let him, kneeling neck to him so he could keep holding him. “You did so well, baby.” He kissed Sephiroth’s sweat-drenched brow. “I’ve got you.”

He could feel Sephiroth’s breathing slow back down to normal. “There you go,” he said, raising Sepgiroth’s chin with one finger so he could look into his eyes. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to remove this?” he asked, letting his fingers caress the collar still around Sephiroth’s neck. 

Sephiroth shook his head silently. 

“Then what do you want?” asked Angeal.

“I… I want you. Angeal. Please.” He looked into Angeal’s eyes pleadingly, his luminous green eyes swimming with tears.

“Please what?” Angeal was still stroking Sephiroth’s neck, his cheek, the line of his jaw, and Sephiroth leant into it like a cat begging to be petted.

“Please fuck me, Angeal,” he breathed.

“Like this?” Angeal let his fingers stop at the collar again. “You know that as long as your collar stays on…” - he moved slowly lower, following the line of Sephiroth’s sternum, the well-defined muscles of his belly, stopping to caress the ring of leather at the bottom of his cock - “... _this_ stays on as well. Is that what you want?”

Sephiroth nodded. Angeal smiled. “Good boy. What a good boy you are, darling. So if that’s what you want, let’s see how well you spread those legs for me, then.”

Angeal grabbed him by the back of his collar, hard enough to choke, and pushed him face down onto his bed. With one hand, he opened the fly of his trousers, relieving a pressure that had become difficult to bear. He’d been hard from the start, his underwear sticky with pre-come, even though he hadn't touched himself once. Rapidly, he lathered his cock with lube, and shoved Sephiroth’s knees further apart, revealing his hole. There, just as he was everywhere else, Sephiroth was perfect, a tight ring of muscles, the skin barely a shade darker, puckered and secret, entirely hairless. He rubbed his thumb against it, barely dipping inside, spreading slick but not opening him. That was what it meant, when the collar stayed on: that Sephiroth wanted the pain of it, not the pleasure. His alpha body was not designed for penetration the way Genesis’s was, and the cock ring would prevent him in any case from reaching any point near orgasm.

Without any more preparation, Angeal lined himself up against Sephiroth’s hole. He was slightly smaller than Sephiroth, perhaps, but he was still large even for an alpha, thick, slightly wider at the head of his cock than at the base - before his knot formed, anyway. He put his hands on Sephiroth’s hips to gain purchase, and with a grunt, slowly pushed himself inside. 

Sephiroth made a small shocked sound at the sudden intrusion, somewhere between a growl and a mewl, and Angeal felt Sephiroth’s muscles rebel, tensing in a vain effort to expel him, so tight it was almost painful for him as well. He pulled Sephiroth’s hips up to get deeper, his thumbs caressing the swollen marks he’d left, leaving a faint dark-red mark from the pinpricks of blood oozing out of the most prominent welts.

Sephiroth flattened himself on the bed, arching his back, opening himself even more. The tight sheath of muscle relaxed enough to let Angeal move and go even deeper. “Good boy,” he said approvingly, still stroking Sephiroth’s abused flesh in slow, gentle circles. “My good, beautiful boy.”

He started moving in slow, powerful strokes, pulling back almost completely each time, then ramming in with all his strength, mercilessly. Sephiroth had buried his face between his arms, his wide muscled back trembling. He was breathing in short, sharp gasps that sounded almost like sobs.

Angeal was so focussed on Sephiroth, his reactions, the sounds he made, that his own pleasure took him almost by surprise. He sped up, chasing that feeling, until it became too much, the overwhelming heat of Sephiroth around him, the beauty of his total submission. He grabbed a fistful of silver hair, pulling Sephiroth back, forcing him to arch his spine even further.

“I am going to knot you,” he growled. “This is your last chance to stop me if that’s not what you want. Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” came the strangled reply. “No, Angeal, please, do it.”

Angeal lay down, covering Sephiroth’s body with his own, his hips moving in short, hard thrusts. The pleasure was growing within him, unstoppable, and he let his instincts take over completely, take him over the edge, and just as he came, with blinding force, he sank his teeth into Sephiroth’s shoulder, just at the base of the neck, much, much harder than he’d intended. He tasted blood, and Sephiroth cried out sharply. At the same time, he felt his knot expand, pushing against Sephiroth’s internal walls. 

This was where alpha bodies differed from omega. Omegas somehow accommodated the extreme girth of a knot, interpreted this pressure as pleasure, overwhelming all their other senses. Even Genesis, strong-willed as he was, would be rendered helpless, coming over and over until he was shaking with pleasure, when Angeal or Sephiroth knotted him. But Sephiroth had knotted Angeal a couple of times, and to Angeal’s alpha body, the pressure had been almost unbearable, as though he was being split in two.

Sephiroth had gone rigid under him. Angeal could feel him try to control his breathing, to relax his body. Angeal licked at the bite he’d given him apologetically. It was deep, the imprints of Angeal’s sharp alpha teeth welling with blood.

“Alright?” he asked, gently. Sephiroth nodded.

Slowly, he rocked against Sephiroth, the knot preventing him from moving, feeling that second orgasm build in him inevitably, like a wave, crashing over him. That was the climax they only got when knotted, and it was different, wave after wave of long, shuddering pleasure, accompanied by spurt after spurt of come, designed to impregnate a child-bearing omega with almost total certainty, particularly during a heat. Or at least, that’s what it had evolved for originally, before betas and non-childbearing male omegas came into the mix. 

Angeal couldn’t think. He just let himself fall heavily on top of Sephiroth, let himself be wracked with pleasure, until it started to slow down gradually and he started coming back to himself. He could feel Sephiroth’s powerful heart beating through his chest, slowing down as well.

His knot was coming down. He waited, careful not to hurt Sephiroth any further, and pulled out slowly. Copious amounts of come came flowing out, lightly tinged with pink, but there was no sign of any serious bleeding. 

He pulled Sephiroth up in a hug. Sephiroth had gone completely limp, his eyes hazy.

“You did so well,” said Angeal. He kissed him, then reverently unclasped his collar and put in down on the bed.

“You bit me,” said Sephiroth with something like wonder.

“Yes”. Angeal smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry. To be honest, I didn’t mean to. Does it hurt?”

“A bit. Were you trying to mark me, Angeal?”

“Maybe.” He licked at the wound soothingly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, at that point. I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t mind. You know…” Sephiroth looked away, as though about to make a confession. “Sometimes I wish I'd been born an omega. We could both have been yours, Genesis and I.”

“Yes. But you make such a magnificent alpha.” Angeal reached down, untying the links around Sephiroth’s cock. “And that way, I have both.”

Gently, taking care not to over-stimulate, he caressed Sephiroth’s cock, with slow, long strokes. Sephiroth hissed, his cock twitching in Angeal’s hand. He was close, but so sensitive only the lightest touches would work now. He held Sephiroth tight with one arm, working his hand between them. Sephiroth moaned.

“Shh, baby,” said Angeal soothingly. “I’ve got you. You can let go, now.” 

Sephiroth gasped and shuddered and came, his cock twitching in Angeal’s hand weakly. He was entirely spent, his body utterly relaxed. He buried his face in the curve of Angeal’s neck. 

“I love you, Angeal,” he whispered. 

“I love you too, darling,” said Angeal, and kissed the top of his head. 

He could feel Sephiroth falling asleep against him. This was probably a very bad idea, with both of them covered in come and blood. They’d end up with sheets and hair stuck to them, and it would be very unpleasant to entangle. But Sephiroth was warm and yielding in his arms, his breath soft against his neck, and no force in the universe could have made Angeal let go of his lover now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: none of this is safe BDSM practices unless you happen to have an alpha Sephiroth in your bed. Take a look around. Are people divided in two genders and three sub-genders in your universe? Is the person in your bed a mako-enhanced SOLDIER above 6’ with oval pupils and waist-long white hair? If this is the case, what I’ve described above could possibly work, although your mileage might vary. Even so, it’s probably a good idea to ask first, as there is a significant risk of death if your Sephiroth is not fully willing.  
> Otherwise, please don’t use anything above as any kind of guide or someone will get seriously hurt, and I don’t want to be responsible for any of that..
> 
> \-----------------------------
> 
> Genesis, noticing bloody whip marks all over Sephiroth’s back the morning after one of one of their little “play sessions” :  
> Can’t you two fuck like civilised people instead of mawling each other each time I leave you alone for five minutes?
> 
> Angeal, looking smug in the corner :  
> Why, you want to join in next time, Gen?
> 
> Sephiroth, musingly :  
> I wonder which side Genesis would like to be on…
> 
> Genesis, horrified :  
> I’m certainly not letting anyone _whip_ me, that looks like it fucking hurts!
> 
> Angeal and Sephiroth, in perfect unison :  
> That’s the point.
> 
> Genesis :  
> ...
> 
> Genesis, scandalised :  
> Perverts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Angeal and Sephiroth have stopped distracting me with their shenanigans, we _finally_ get to some Genesis/Tseng.
> 
> Sorry for the wait!

When Genesis walked in, he found Tseng looking at his books thoughtfully, fresh out of the bath, sweet-smelling and bare-footed and that was when Genesis realised one thing.

Tseng in black silk was devastating.

It clung to his skin, emphasising his long, delicate lines, slender and elegant. His hair was so black it looked almost blue in the light.

“You’re back,” he said, throwing a glance at Genesis over his shoulder.

“I said I’d be here. That is… if you want me?” Genesis wondered, suddenly, out of nowhere, if this was truly a good idea. “I mean… I pushed you into this, didn’t it? I was trying to help, but… if you want, you can say no, of course.” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t even know if you find me even vaguely attractive.”

“You’re very attractive,” murmured Tseng, taking a step towards him, “but you know that, don’t you? You always look so… powerful. Free. As though you never doubted yourself for an instant.”

Genesis shrugged. “A lot of that is an act, you know? The truth is a lot of the time, I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just pretend. Right now, for instance… I know I want to help you, I know I like you, but do you want to know the truth? I’m not at all sure what I’m doing. I’ve only ever been with Angeal and Sephiroth. I’ve never touched another omega before. Have you?”

Tseng looked away. “Some. I… Before Rufus, I slept with a lot of people. Mostly because I wanted something out of them, not because I was attracted to them.”

“Very… Turk-like of you.”

“Really? You don’t find it disturbing?” Tseng raised his eyebrows questioningly. “There are many who would say I slept my way to my position.”

Genesis shrugged. “I know you. I know why you are where you are. It’s because you’re the best, omega or not.”

Tseng twisted his lips in a bitter smile. “I don’t know if that’s true.”

“I do. Come here.” He put an arm around Tseng, again marvelling at how delicate he felt compared to his bulky alphas. “You can’t start a heat this sad. Let me try to cheer you up. How about we build that nest?”

Tseng shrugged. “Why not?”

“Good.” Impulsively, Genesis leant forward and gave Tseng a peck on the cheek. Tseng raised a hand to where Genesis had kissed him. He looked a little surprised. 

“So. Where do you want it?” Genesis asked.

“Where do I want what?”

“The nest. Where do you want it?”

“I don’t know.” Tseng surveyed the room. “You said you built it in a corner, usually?”

“I’m not asking you where I build it. Where would you want it?”

“I…” He paused, pondering. “Your bed, maybe? Or is that too personal?”

Genesis smiled. “Really? You like my bed?” He knew he probably should let go of Tseng, now, give him space, but he felt so good and warm in his arms. He buried his face in Tseng’s black, silky hair, and inhaled. “You smell so good. Like something to eat.”

“Almonds, I’m told,” said Tseng. 

“Yes. Marzipan. In Banora, we make little colored vegetables out of marzipan. I used to love those as a child.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that.” Tseng turned to face Genesis and burrowed his face in his chest. “You smell good too.”

“Apples and cinnamon, right?” smiled Genesis, but he felt something, like a hand squeezing his heart, as Tseng rubbed his face against him slowly. “That’s what everyone says.”

“Yes… That's why…” Tseng’s breath was hot against Genesis’s skin. “That’s why I wanted your bed. I noticed it earlier. It smells like you.” Tseng closed his eyes, leaning against Genesis. He seemed to have gone entirely limp. 

“It’s starting, isn’t it?” said Genesis. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here.” Gently, he picked up Tseng - so _light_ , he couldn’t wrap his head around that, the last person he’d carried had been an injured Angeal and there was no comparison - and carried him to his bed.

Tseng shivered at the touch of Genesis’s thick crushed velvet bedspread. His eyes were going hazy. 

“Red, please,” he whispered.

“What?”

“If you want to bring blankets… Bring the red ones.”

Genesis looked at him. “Really? That’s... Red is sort of _my_ colour.”

“I know,” said Tseng, and he pulled Genesis down to him and kissed him.

Genesis tried and failed to hold back a moan. Tseng’s lips were the softest he’d ever felt, soft as silk. He threaded his fingers through Tseng’s hair, kissing him again. He wanted to pull him closer, to force his mouth open and taste him with his tongue. Tseng’s scent was so sweet it was making Genesis lightheaded.

It took a real effort to tear himself away. “Don’t move. You’ll like this,” he promised, as he went to select some of his blankets, choosing them like he would for himself: picking them up for a second, holding them to his cheek to see if they felt right to him or not. The ones he thought Tseng might like he folded over his arm, the others he let drop to the floor.

Once he had what felt like enough, he looked up to see Tseng was looking at him with a mix of amusement and fondness.

“What?”

“Nothing. I like how careful you are.”

“I told you, this is important stuff. Now…” He put everything down on the bed. “How do you feel? Hot? Cold? Like you want protection around you or like you want to snuggle and be held?”

Tseng smiled that secret smile Genesis found so appealing, the one he hid behind his hand. “You are adorable, you know that?”

“Me?” Genesis paused. “I just… I don’t know, I like doing this.”

“I can see that. Will you join me in the nest?”

“If you want me to, yes. It’s your nest. You decide. So… does that mean you’re in more of a snuggly mood? In that case…” He started arranging his stack of blankets and pillows. Tseng knelt on the huge bed, out of the way, watching him work.

“What you want is a nice raised outer wall to lay on and tons of layers,” said Genesis. “That way you can bury yourself just as much as you like.” He pulled back to survey the result. “Right. I think that’s more or less it for now. Try it?”

Tseng crawled in the mound of soft, warm things, a little gingerly. “This _is_ nice,” he conceded, as he curled himself in the middle.

“I told you.”

“Join me?” said Tseng, holding out a hand. 

“Yes. But… I should probably take a shower, I guess?” Suddenly it felt very intimate, this warm red place, heady with Tseng’s scent. It didn’t feel like he’d allowed someone in his bed, but like Tseng was allowing him in his, and there was something a little intimidating about it.

Tseng shook his head. “No. I want your scent. Come here.”

Genesis felt his face heat up. “Oh. Okay.” He crawled into the nest and Tseng latched on to him, curling himself around him. 

Tseng buried his face into Genesis’s neck, inhaling his scent. “You smell so good,” he said. 

“You too.” He put an arm around Tseng carefully. Tseng had kissed him earlier, true, but that didn’t mean he’d necessarily want Genesis’s hands on him now. Or his lips. Which was a shame, because Genesis really, really wanted to kiss Tseng again. His eyes kept flicking down to Tseng’s pretty, soft lips. 

Tseng chuckled softly. “Do you want to kiss me, Genesis?” he whispered teasingly, moving even closer.

“Yes?” said Genesis.

“Do it,” said Tseng, his lips almost touching Genesis’s. “Please.”

Genesis threaded his hand through Tseng’s long black hair, so different from Sephiroth’s magnificent mane, softer, somehow, more supple, and brought Tseng into a kiss. Tseng let out a low moan, the sound sending a shiver down Genesis’s spine. Tseng’s lips parted, inviting Genesis in, and Genesis let himself go, kissing Tseng the way he’d wanted earlier, passionately, possessively, tasting his lips with his tongue. 

He could feel Tseng’s skin warm up under him, his scent becoming somehow deeper, darker, but just as sweet. The jasmine-like note was barely perceptible now, although it was the most noticeable usually, when Tseng wasn’t in heat. Now there was that sweet, soft smell, with a hint of spice, and it made Genesis’s mouth water.

He was so absorbed it took him a while to realise Tseng’s hands were pulling at his clothes. “You’re wearing too much,” Tseng frowned disapprovingly, and at that second he looked so much like he did every time he had some cause to complain about SOLDIERs at work that Genesis had to laugh. 

“What?” asked Tseng.

“You look like you’re about to tell me off for unauthorised use of materia.”

“Yes, well, why do you never do as you’re told? You’re terrible at taking orders.” Tseng sighed, but his eyes were smiling. “Off. Your clothes are too rough.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Genesis!”

“Okay. But…” he undressed himself quickly, dropping his clothes haphazardly near the bed. “Do you want me entirely naked?” he asked before pushing down his boxers. He was half hard, even though he was trying not to take for granted this would necessarily lead to sex. But Tseng, spread out in black silk in the middle of the wine-red bedclothes, looked achingly beautiful.

Tseng smiled again, but now there was something else in his smile. “Yes. Didn’t you say I get to decide, because it’s my nest?”

“Yes. But… We’ll do what you want. I mean…” Genesis felt a little out of his depth, for some undefined reason, and he was not used to feeling that way in bed. “Whatever’s good for you. If you just want me to hold you, that’s fine.”

“Is it?” said Tseng, his long almond eyes narrowing dangerously. He grabbed Genesis’s hand and pushed it between his legs. Genesis swallowed. Tseng was rock hard, but more than that, he was wet, his trousers drenched with slick. “And what if I want you to fuck me?”

Genesis blinked. He could feel Tseng’s warmth radiating off him. He’d badly misjudged how far along Tseng was. Given how wet and warm he felt, he seemed past the stage by which Genesis would be moaning and begging for his alphas.

But Tseng was different. Even though his body burned with heat, it was as though he didn’t give off flames, the way Genesis did, but kept it close to him, white hot, incandescent, deep inside, controlled. It didn’t mean it didn’t burn just as fiercely.

Genesis swallowed. “Then…” he said, trying to regain his composure. “You should probably get those off?”

“Yes.” Tseng laid back on the bed, his black hair fanning out behind him. He looked up at Genesis behind his eyelashes. “Undress me?” he asked, arching his back and throwing his head back gracefully. There was a small drop of sweat running along the smooth skin of his neck.

Genesis paused, transfixed, for a second. If he was honest, he’d always thought being with an omega would feel fairly innocuous, sweet, light, and yes, cute, in a way, even though he’d given Angeal hell for saying that. This wasn’t like that at all. 

Tseng laying down on the bed looked dangerous. 

Deadly.

Slowly, he undid the buttons of Tseng’s pyjama top. His hands were trembling a little. Under him, Tseng _writhed_. His skin was burning to the touch.

He undid the last button, and Tseng shrugged it off. “Touch me.” he asked, grasping one of Genesis’s hands and pressing it to his chest. “Touch me, please.” There was the barest hint of desperation in his precise, controlled voice, and it made Genesis shiver.

Slowly, using only his fingertips, Genesis explored Tseng’s warm ivory skin. It was smooth and soft, but covered in old scars, slightly rougher to the touch. He traced some of them with his finger. Some old, well healed cuts near his chest. A bad burn, almost entirely faded. A bullet wound, star shaped, above his left nipple. “You have so many scars,” he breathed in wonder.

“Comes with the job. I would have thought.. you’d have more,” said Tseng, running his hand down Genesis’s unmarked chest.

“It’s the mako. We heal much better.” He meant closer, wanting to taste that skin, and stopped a few inches above Tseng. “May I?”

“For fuck’s sake, Genesis, yes. Please. Please…” Tseng whispered as Genesis closed his mouth on a delicate light-brown nipple, sucking gently. 

“Genesis…” Tseng hissed. “Please. Touch me. You have no idea how long… Ah!” he gasped as Genesis bit down carefully. “Please…”

Genesis moved down slowly, letting his mouth trace the smooth lines of Tseng’s body, his hands moving all over his skin, stroking, sliding under his back where it was arched off the bed, and how could his waist feel so narrow and strong at the same time, it was unholy, maddening. 

He pushed down Tseng’s drenched pyjama bottom, and underneath Tseng’s cock was hard, flat against his stomach, its head a purplish red. Genesis licked at it once, teasingly, and Tseng shivered with overstimulation. There, at least, Tseng seemed to be like Genesis, too sensitive to touch during heat. But Genesis slid his hand further down, to the firm swell of Tseng’s buttocks, let his fingers explore until he found his hole, warm, wet and yielding under his fingertips.

“Would you rather be on your front?” he asked. It was the most omega-ish position, presenting, head buried in one’s arms, ass open and up in the air.

Tseng shook his head. “No,” he hissed between his teeth. “I like looking at you. You’re beautiful…” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful, Genesis, I…” He moaned and arched his back, spreading his legs invitingly. 

Genesis grabbed hold of Tseng’s lean muscled thighs, pressing them back against his chest. He’d seen how flexible Tseng was during physical training before, but he’d never imagined he’d get to experience it in this way. He pressed his mouth hungrily to Tseng’s hole, tasting his slick, sweet and mouth-watering. There was none of the musk his alphas gave out when he did this to them, just this wonderful, delicious scent, and his tongue chased it of its own accord, wanting more, dipping within the soft, open ring of muscle to get to the source of it. He felt Tseng’s hand in his hair, pressing him even closer, as Tseng moaned and writhed above him, responding to every lick, every thrust of his tongue, every kiss he pressed to that tender flesh.

“Genesis…” gasped Tseng. Genesis didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, really, he felt like he could have done this for hours on end. “Genesis!” Tseng tugged on his hair, pulling him off.

Genesis looked up. 

“Fuck me?” said Tseng breathily. His eyes were dark, heavy with desire.

Genesis nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He moved closer, pausing a second to press a kiss to the back of Tseng’s trembling thigh. He took hold of his cock in one hand and pressed it to Tseng’s yielding entrance. Tseng felt hot inside, wet and slippery, both like and unlike Genesis’s alphas. Genesis knew very well what he himself felt like inside, but it was so different feeling it like that and not with his fingers, the secret folds made to accommodate an alpha and his knot. Once fully inside, he paused, catching his breath.

Tseng gave out a long, shuddering sigh. “You’re big,” he said, as though surprised. 

“For an omega, yes, I guess?” said Genesis. He’d never really thought about it, given there was really no comparison with Angeal or Sephiroth.

“You feel good. Fuck me,” said Tseng, and that was definitely an order, not a request.

Slowly at first, then gradually faster and faster, Genesis thrust into Tseng, trying to find the angle he himself liked best. Tseng was so wonderfully responsive around him, clenching inside in pleasure, his breath turning to small gasps of need, that Genesis lost himself entirely in it, in the feeling, losing all sense of time until he felt an orgasm build within himself, inevitable. “Tseng…” he said. “I’m going to…”

Tseng said nothing, just pulled him closer and angled his hips to give him even better access, meeting Genesis’s thrusts with short, hard thrusts of his own, as though he wanted to milk this orgasm out of him, and it was wonderful, and glorious, and then Genesis was coming deep inside Tseng, his entire body trembling with it, as Tseng stroked his back soothingly.

As soon as he caught his breath, he pulled out, and Tseng let out a needy, forlorn moan. Genesis kissed his lips as though to capture the sound. “I’m sorry. I can’t knot you. I know that’s what you need, right now, isn’t it? Do you want me to go get a toy?”

Tseng shook his head. “No. No, don’t.”

“But… then what?”

Tseng smiled, and there was something sultry, almost wicked in his eyes. “Give me your hand,” he said.

Genesis swallowed and held out his hand. Tseng took it in his, and slowly folded Genesis’s fingers into a fist. “This.” he said, looking up at Genesis from behind long eyelashes.

Genesis felt his heart stop for a second. “What… really?” he stammered.

“Yes,” Tseng nodded. “Go slow.”

“But… I’ll hurt you.”

“Genesis, take a fucking order, for once in your life!” hissed Tseng. “You won’t hurt me. Do it.”

“I’m not sure _how_?”

Tseng chuckled breathily. His eyes were sparkling. “You are so cute, Genesis,” he breathed. “Like this. Fingers together, thumb tucked in. Go slow... Once you’re past the knuckles, you’re good.”

Genesis swallowed. He let his fingers trail against Tseng’s hole, feeling how soft and wet and responsive it felt under his fingertips. Slowly, he dipped his index and middle finger in, the moved him in and out gently. Tseng took them with insolent ease, stretched out from Genesis’s cock. How much of that sweet wetness was Tseng’s slick and how much was his own come was impossible to say.

“More,” said Tseng, impatiently.

“You said slowly,” said Genesis, pulling out, then inserting his fingers back in, adding one more.

“Genesis, I swear to God…”

“Ssh. I’ve got you,” said Genesis, and he pushed all four fingers in, bunched together.

“Ah…” sighed Tseng, throwing his head back. “Yes. Like that.”

Slowly, Genesis worked his way in, twisting his hand slightly to force the muscles to open. The sensation around his hand was unbelievable, alive, reacting to the smallest twitch with a clench, a flutter, a ripple.

“I’m going to put my thumb in now,” he said, adding the last digit, and Tseng shuddered beneath him, moaning.

“God, you feel so _good_ ,” he whispered.

Genesis felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was drowning. This feeling, as Tseng’s body relaxed, accepting more and more of his hand, was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He felt his knuckles slide in, excruciatingly slowly, and then it was as though his hand was being swallowed into Tseng’s heat, tight and close.

Tseng made a high keening noise of need. Genesis could feel his pulse, beating hard against his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

Tseng nodded, speechless now.

Slowly, Genesis closed his fist and _twisted_ , pressing right into that most sensitive spot. Tseng’s mouth opened in a silent scream and Genesis felt him come before he saw him, felt him clench helplessly around his fist, in long, shuddering waves that kept coming.

And somehow, Tseng, arched back, impaled on his arm, helpless with pleasure, was one of the most beautiful things Genesis had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Me again. *clears throat* So. Should you wish to emulate anything you saw here, I have to emphasise once more that these are not standard issue humans. I would not advise using this any of this as a guide.  
> If you must, I suggest you research it carefully, invest in a lot of lube (a lot more than you’d think), and probably wear gloves. And, for the love of god, trim your fingernails as short as humanly possible.
> 
> Again, I would like to decline responsibility for all the porn. It’s Genesis, I swear. He’s the worst muse.
> 
> —————————
> 
> Genesis, dreamily:  
> Rufus is such an idiot. If I was an alpha, I’d kill for an omega like Tseng.
> 
> Angeal:  
> And what are we, the cat's dinner? You wouldn’t have us?
> 
> Sephiroth:  
> If you were an alpha, wouldn’t that mean we’d be omegas as well?
> 
> Genesis:  
> You two? Hmmm. You would be my omegas as well. I’d have three. It would be lovely.
> 
> Sephiroth, shaking his head:  
> You’d be dead. No one could possibly have the stamina.
> 
> Angeal:  
> Or the patience, if we’re anything like you.
> 
> Both:  
> Omegas are _scary_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with the Soldiers, then new characters, and the barest hint of a plot (gasp). I will follow the generally accepted idea that Lazard is President Shinra’s illegitimate son and therefore Rufus’s older half-brother. Otherwise I will be taking a lot of liberties with everyone’s back stories, obviously.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who reads and comments or gives kudos - honestly, this was such a random idea that I didn’t think anyone could possibly be interested. You’re all wonderful and I love you.

Genesis stretched. He closed his bedroom door carefully, not wanting to wake up Tseng who was still asleep, curled up in the mound of red blankets.

The light in the kitchen was on, which meant the alphas were up. Softly, Genesis padded down the corridor and pushed open the door.

Angeal was cooking, making some eggs, by the smell of it. Sephiroth was sitting at the table, drinking coffee while looking at his phone, his hair up in a messy topknot.

“Good morning, Genesis,” he said, not looking up.

“Good morning! Angeal, what are you making? Is there some for me?” asked Genesis, draping himself over Angeal to look over his shoulder.

“If you want, yes.” Angeal turned his head briefly to give him a quick kiss. “I’m making scrambled eggs. You want one or two?”

“Two. Three. I’m starving. Sort of got distracted and forgot to eat last night.”

“I’ll never understand how anyone can forget to eat.” Angeal shook his head. “So… you seem in a good mood. I take it that Tseng is doing well?”

“Yes. He’s between two waves right now. He’s probably going to sleep all morning. And I’m going to eat, because I need to keep my strength up.”

Angeal smirked. “Now will you believe us when we tell you it’s exhausting trying to keep up with you during a heat?”

“Yes, but you’re not allowed to say so because you don’t even know what a heat feels like.”

“So you keep saying. But as someone who’s been on both sides?”

“Having one is much, much worse. But yes, if you like, I’ll admit it is a lot of work on the other side as well.”

“Genesis,” asked Sephiroth, with a hint of grumpiness. “Why don’t I get a kiss?” 

“You didn’t even look up from your screen when I came in!”

“I can’t believe the sheer ingratitude.” Sephiroth bottom lip stood out in what, in a lesser man, might have been called a pout. “I’m trying to rearrange our schedules for today so we can cover for you. I’ve already sent Lazard a message saying you can’t come in.”

“You have? You’re the best, Seph.” Genesis sauntered over to set himself on Sephiroth’s lap, straddling him. He threw his arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “What did you say?”

“The truth. You’re busy taking care of Tseng. I don’t see why there’d be any reason to lie. You’re not doing anything wrong.” He took in Genesis’s smell, just behind his ear. “You smell good this morning. Happy.” Of the three of them, Sephiroth was by far the one with the most developed sense of smell, and often he picked up on subtle mood changes that way.

“I feel happy,” smiled Genesis.

Sephiroth buried his face in Genesis’s auburn hair. “There’s still a hint of Tseng on you, do you know that?”

“I took a shower!”

“Yes, but a little bit is still there. It’s nice. Your scents mix together in a really lovely way,” said Sephiroth.

“Seph?”

“Yes?” said Sephiroth, still taking in Genesis’s scent.

“Dare I ask why you have a bloody bite mark on the back of your neck?” Genesis turned to look at Angeal. “Angeal?”

“Oh, that?” said Angeal sheepishly, setting down three plates of scrambled eggs on the table. “Yes. Sorry. I got carried away.”

“ _We_ got carried away. It’s fine, Genesis. It doesn’t show with my hair down.” Sephiroth kissed Genesis’s neck. “Now get off me. The food’s here.”

Genesis slid off Sephiroth regretfully and sat down at the table. “Mmm, thanks, Angeal, these look gorgeous.” He took a large mouthful of fluffy scrambled eggs. “I don’t know why you two have to be so violent with each other.”

Angeal shrugged. “It’s an alpha thing, I guess?” he said, while Sephiroth smiled, like someone thinking back on a fond memory.

“You’re never like that with me.” 

“ ‘course not,” said Angeal, between mouthfuls. “You wouldn’t like it, and besides… hurting an omega? That doesn’t sound like fun at all. You’d have to be a complete pervert.”

“Oh, and hurting my poor darling Sephiroth, that’s not perverted?”

“Your poor darling Sephiroth didn’t seem to mind, last night.”

“I still don’t mind this morning,” said Sephiroth. There was something warm and fond in his voice. “There’s nothing perverse about it. It’s all about love.” He was looking into the distance, with a wistful expression. “The only thing I regret is that the marks fade so quickly, on me. This morning, you could still see the marks on my back in the mirror, and they seemed like something beautiful. Precious. I’d really like to keep them longer...”

Angeal and Genesis both stared at Sephiroth, speechless for an instant.

Sephiroth shrugged. “Still, that way, I don’t have to explain them to Hojo. That’s a plus.”

“Sephiroth!” Genesis cried out. “How dare you bring up Hojo in the middle of the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard you say!”

“Yes! God fucking damn it, I did not need that image in my brain just now.” Angeal winced. “Can you imagine explaining that to Hojo… ugh.”

“Perhaps I could say I got them from some sort of monster?”

“Oh, yes, the infamous bondage Zolom, very common around these parts, I hear,” snickered Genesis. 

“Anyway,” said Angeal, leaning on the table with an intent look in his eyes. “That was our evening. Are you going to tell us about yours?”

“I…” Genesis started, then hesitated. “Not in any kind of detail, no, I don’t think.”

Angeal groaned. “Why? Why do you have to be so cruel, Gen? It’s us!”

“Genesis is right,” said Sephiroth. “Tseng is not part of our arrangement. We share Genesis, we don’t share him. He’s entitled to his privacy.”

“Seph, you traitor, why?” Angeal gestured dramatically. “What about my fantasies of pretty omegas all kissy and cuddly and sweet? Can’t a man have a dream?”

“Actually…” said Genesis. “I’ll say one thing. It really, really wasn’t like that at all.”

Sephiroth tilted his head to the side. “How so?”

“You look very interested, for someone who was all about privacy five seconds ago,” said Angeal. “Just pointing it out, that’s all.”

Genesis ignored him. “It was very intense. Tseng is… well, you know how controlled he is, all the time? Well, believe me, under all that… he’s really, really…” he paused.

“Really, really... what?” asked Angeal. Both alphas were waiting expectantly for Genesis’s next word.

“...I shouldn’t tell you.” 

Angeal banged his head on the table in frustration. Sephiroth tapped a finger on the table, a sour look on his face.

“But all I know is that Rufus Shinra is an imbecile. Tseng is wonderful.” Genesis sighed. “Just… wonderful.”

“Do you have a crush on Tseng, Gen?” asked Angeal with a grin.

“I most certainly do. You have no idea.”

“Of course we have no idea, you won’t tell us,” grumbled Sephiroth. “I should have left you to deal with Lazard on your own.”

“When do we have to show up, by the way, Sephiroth?” asked Angeal.

“In an hour or so. 0800. Briefing room 3. There’s an update on that coeurl cluster near Kalm, apparently.”

Angeal raised an eyebrow. “Wow,” he said flatly. “How fascinating. I certainly wouldn’t rather stay here with Genesis and Tseng.”

“We have a job to do, Commander,” said Sephiroth sternly.

“Yes, General,” said Angeal, saluting smartly.

Sephiroth smirked. “That’s more like it.”

* * *

Lazard looked at his screen and frowned. Even though it was early and the SOLDIER floor was still empty, the director was already in his office, working, alone in the half-lit floor, a cup of tea already cooling on his desk, unheeded. Managing the world’s deadliest enhanced military force was a non-stop ordeal. And now it looked as though he would be missing a Commander. Again.

He re-read the message from Sephiroth. As it usually was with the General, it was brief and to the point. It was also highly worrying.

He picked up his phone and dialed Rufus’s number. There was, naturally, no answer. He’d never known Rufus to answer his phone before at least 10, unless Tseng was picking up for him.

And Tseng, apparently, wasn’t there. Which was the entire problem.

Sighing, he looked at the time. It was early. He probably had time to investigate what was going on before his morning briefing. He picked up his keycard and headed towards the elevators.

The executive floor was silent and immaculate, as always. Lazard rang the bell on Rufus’s door. There was no answer. He huffed in irritation and knocked loudly.

“Rufus. It’s me. Lazard. Open up, or I’ll let myself in.”

He heard some noise on the other side, like something falling over, then Rufus opened his door, blinking blearily. Lazard raised his eyebrows in surprise. The usually immaculate Rufus looked like death warmed up. He was red-eyed and unshaven, half-dressed in what was clearly last night’s clothes, wrinkled beyond repair.

“What?” barked Rufus, leaning heavily on the doorframe for support.

“Good morning, Rufus. You reek of alcohol. May I come in, please?”

“I was sleeping.” 

“I can see that. In your own vomit, it looks like. How fitting for the heir of the great Shinra corporation.”

Rufus sighed. “I imagine you’re here to yell at me?”

“Well, to be honest, probably. I came here because of Tseng, Rufus. Let me in.”

Rufus snarled. “What about Tseng?”

“Let me in and we’ll talk.”

Grudgingly, Rufus moved out of the way, and Lazard walked in. He stepped into the living room and stopped. “Wonderful,” he said. “You redecorated? Very original.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lazard,” said Rufus, letting himself fall on the couch. “I was upset.”

“So you trashed your home,” murmured Lazard, looking around at the disaster that surrounded him. It seemed everything that could possibly break had been smashed to the ground. Furniture was turned over. There was a large, star-shaped crack in the middle of the room’s immense full-length window. “How very mature of you. I’m sure it helped immensely.”

“Oh, fuck you,” said Rufus, picking up one of the bottles that were strewn about the place to check if it was empty.

Lazard took it from his hand. “Enough of this bullshit, Rufus,” he said. “None of this will solve anything. What’s wrong?”

“Tseng’s gone, Lazard,” said Rufus miserably.

“It would seem so,” said Lazard. “What did you do?”

“I…” Rufus buried his face in his hands. “I told him to leave. I threw him out. I don’t even know where he is right now.”

“Apparently, with Genesis. What in the blazes is going on? Why is your omega with my SOLDIERs? What did you _do_ , Rufus?”

Rufus didn’t answer. He was sitting, staring at his feet, leaning over, elbows on his thighs. “With Genesis… he’s probably fine, then. Genesis is a good man, isn’t he, Lazard?”

“If you ask me, he’s an annoying brat, but apart from that, yes. He’s a decent person. If you’re so worried about Tseng, why on earth did you throw him out? What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Tseng’s gone, and it's what I deserve.”

“When you’re quite finished feeling sorry for yourself, Rufus, perhaps we could go back to the point? What on earth did you do?”

“I’m not sure. I got scared. Tseng was hurt and Genesis was there and I lashed out… and...”

“Scared of what? “said Lazard, inwardly praying for patience. “Explain.”

“I don’t know. I can’t stand to see him anymore. I can’t stand to him so sad, to see him suffer.” Rufus’s words were coming out all jumbled up, as though it cost him a great effort to expel them. “I hate it. And it’s much worse than that. Somehow it makes me feel like I hate _him_. And he I know he feels it. And... I can’t stand it anymore, Lazard, I just… I want it to stop, somehow.” Rufus looked up, and he was weeping. 

Lazard has never once seen the alpha cry. It was utterly unexpected. Awkwardly, he sat down next to Rufus. “Rufus,” he said softly. “Tell me. What’s going on? There’s something wrong between you and Tseng, isn’t there?” 

Lazard tried to think back on what he knew about the pair. Tseng had started at Shinra very young, joining the Turks when he was fifteen. No one knew much about his past, apart from the fact he was obviously originally from Wutai. He’d originally been assigned to protect President Shinra, then switched to Rufus when the young man started taking a more active role in the company at sixteen. Immediately, the young alpha had started showing his intentions towards the omega Turk in a fairly obvious way, his possessiveness so clear it hadn’t really come as a surprise when Rufus had smugly announced, a few days after his eighteenth birthday, that Tseng was now his bonded mate.

The president had been disappointed. He’d had his eye on a few politically advantageous mates for Rufus. Not as a wife, of course. When he would marry and produce an heir, it wouldn’t be with an omega. Lazard knew this intimately. His own mother, the beautiful omega actress, had always hoped the president might change his mind and marry her, but naturally this had never happened. President Shinra has been married to a beta female, as was proper. Any dalliance with an omega was just that, a dalliance, a distraction. An elegant bauble to play with, to show off, to discard when one had enough. Of course omegas were rare and therefore somehow _valuable_ , but you wouldn’t marry one.

Rufus has seemed different. He’d always shot down any talk of taking a wife, despite their father’s efforts, saying Tseng was his only true mate and he would never take anyone else. And this was further borne out by the strength of their bond. As a beta, Lazard wasn’t particularly sensitive to bonds, but apparently they had what people sometimes referred to sentimentally as a ‘true bond’, the kind that never faded, like the mark that was on Tseng’s neck and would remain there until his death.

No one really knew what made a true bond. Most bonded pairs seemed perfectly happy with the usual kind, with bites that faded and were replaced with each heat. True bonds were romanticised to the extreme in fiction, often given some sort of magical properties, like some sort of telepathic link. In real life things were more prosaic. Scientists usually shrugged it off as a glitch of biology, with no deep meaning, although they did acknowledge that it seemed to mean the mated pair were even more sensitive than others to the moods and needs of their mate.

What Tseng himself thought about the situation was anyone’s guess. The Turk always seemed perfectly poised, expressionless. He’d always acted like the ideal bodyguard, a shadow of his employer, silent but always there. After they’d bonded, he’d become the perfect omega, respectful and obedient, at least in public. Lazard had no idea what the two were like in private. But at first, it had seemed like there’d been real warmth between them, little hints of true affection behind the roles they both played so well, Rufus as the controlling, possessive alpha, Tseng as the beautiful submissive omega.

This had changed, in recent years. Or rather, Rufus had changed. He’d become harder, somehow, more closed in. Towards Tseng, he became harsh, cutting, to a point that was unbecoming as an alpha. 

Tseng’s behaviour hadn’t changed. He remained, as ever, the incarnation of perfection. But a light in him seemed to have gone out. He’d been transferred from Rufus’s personal service to head of the Turks, which was, of course, a well-deserved promotion, but also seemed strange, given their bond. Now more often than not, Reno or Rude would be actively protecting Rufus, and Tseng was somewhere in the shadows, except when there was cause for him to stand with Rufus at some social function.

But never would Lazard have guessed the situation could possibly be this bad.

Rufus took a deep breath. “I don’t even know where to start…” He sighed. “Do you remember, Lazard, four years ago, when there was an attempt on my life?” he said. His hands were clasped tightly together.

“Yes. I remember. The activist who tried to shoot you.”

“I saw the gun first, but... I froze. And Tseng…” Rufus was staring at nothing, his hands still clenched together, white-knuckled, as though he was seeing the scene play out in front of him. “I remember it so very clearly. It was as though time slowed down. Tseng stepped in front of me, and… I felt the bullet hit him, Lazard, as though it had gone through me and not him. There was blood everywhere. Everywhere. I’d never seen so much blood. And it was his blood, Tseng’s blood. It felt so warm. The bullet missed his heart by an inch. But I didn’t know that, at the time. I thought he was dead. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Rufus stopped and took a deep, shaking breath. “I don’t remember what happened after that. I know Rude killed the shooter, but I don’t remember. I just remember that moment, Tseng stepping in front of me, and how warm his blood felt. It keeps coming back to me. I thought it would stop, but it hasn’t.”

Lazard felt stunned. He’d had no idea. He knew there’d been an attempt on Rufus’s life and that Tseng had been hurt, but as far as he knew, that was it. Rufus hadn’t seemed any different after that. Neither had Tseng, once he’d been out of the hospital. Bur what Rufus was describing, that was... bad. “Does Tseng know this?”

“No. No, I’ve never told anyone. I couldn’t tell him. When he woke up, do you know what he said? He apologised. He said he should have seen the shooter. That he had failed me.”

Rufus shook his head. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. He was hurt, and I wasn’t, so… I just wanted things to go back to normal. I thought they would, once he was out of the hospital. That I’d finally stop being scared. It didn’t. I couldn’t sleep. I still can’t, really, unless I use drugs. And the strange thing was that I didn’t feel sad about what happened, or grateful, or happy that Tseng was alive. I felt nothing, except for fear. And even that faded, and it was like I couldn’t feel anything at all.”

“And Tseng… I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t even know what to tell him. I just kept acting like everything was fine, like we were back to normal, but nothing was normal. But he noticed, of course. He tried to talk to me about it. I yelled at him. I screamed. I used the Voice on him. And he just… accepted it. Like it was his fault. Like he deserved it.”

Rufus’s eyes were tightly shut, now, a crease of pain between his eyebrows. “There’s something wrong with me, Lazard. He’s my omega. I loved him so much. And now I don’t even know if I still do. I don’t even want to touch him anymore. It scares me. And sometimes… it feels like I hate him. I keep getting so angry at him. And he says nothing.”

Rufus looked up at Lazard. There was a deep, burning shame in his eyes. “I’ve _hit_ him, and he says nothing. Sometimes I even wish he would leave me, because it’s what I deserve, but of course he doesn’t. He’s Tseng. He’s loyalty incarnate. And besides… even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to. Because of…” Rufus’s hand went to touch his neck furtively.

“Your bond,” said Lazard softly.

“Yes. Even that feels like a burden, now. I can feel how much he needs me, but… I have nothing to give. Nothing. It’s like I’m dead inside.”

“I don’t think you are, Rufus. I just wish you’d talked about this before.”

Rufus laughed once, harshly. “To whom?”

“To anyone. To me.”

“Really? Telling you this now is suicide, probably. That’s all everyone is waiting for. A weakness, somewhere, to bring me down. You think I don’t know there’s a whole faction plotting to make you the official heir, and not me?”

Lazard nodded. “I know. I also know I don’t want to be where you are. What I didn’t know is that you didn’t trust me.”

“There is no trust anywhere in this snake’s nest of a family or this hell of a company. There was one person I trusted, and now I can’t even look him in the eye.” Rufus buried his face in his hands.

“Rufus… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Lazard put an arm around Rufus, awkwardly patting his shoulder. He’d never done anything like that in his entire life. He didn’t remember ever touching Rufus, in fact.

They’d never had a warm relationship, starting from the day Rufus had been born when Lazard had been six. His mother had spent a week sobbing at the news, heartbroken. She still believed Lazard might one day be adopted into the main family, and each year during which President Shinra’s wife failed to give him an heir made that more likely in her mind. Lazard hadn’t understood, really, what was happening, even though he father took him in secret to see his new baby brother. But when he’d looked at the sleeping infant, chubby and pink in his pretty cradle, he’d known this little being was somehow responsible for his mother’s sadness and he’d hated it.

His brother, their father had said, but in truth it meant nothing. They’d been raised as strangers, seeing each other once a year because their father thought it was best that they knew each other and their respective places in the grand scheme of things. Rufus as the heir, raised for power, Lazard as the bastard son, taught to make himself useful. When he’d presented as a beta at fourteen, it just seemed to confirm his destiny, and of course, Rufus had turned out alpha, like their father. And Lazard had to earn a place within the company, whereas Rufus merely had to exist. He’d had to scheme and fight to claw himself up through the ranks whereas Rufus had been named vice-president merely because his mother had been the wife and not the mistress.

And yet somehow Lazard was suddenly very aware that this was his brother in his arms, his flesh and blood, broken-hearted and in pain, and for the first time in his life, he felt like perhaps, if things had been different, he could have loved him, protected him, like a big brother should. 

And perhaps neither of them would be so devastatingly lonely now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lazard, walking in Rufus’s appartement and taking in the damage:** Ah. 
> 
> **Rufus, living disaster:** Lazard…. Please help me, Tseng is gone and I am sad, do something!
> 
>  **Lazard, slowly walking backwards towards the exit:** My mistake. Clearly you have the situation perfectly under control. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry for disturbing you.
> 
>  **Rufus, chin wobbling:** Please, Lazard, I’ve fucked up my entire life!
> 
>  **Lazard, slowly but firmly closing the door on Rufus:** Nonsense. You’ve got this. I believe in you. Have a lovely day. 
> 
> **Rufus:**
> 
> **Lazard:** See you at Christmas.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tseng chapter.
> 
> Warning : the sadness fairy with her pointy little teeth has come to visit and she must be indulged. Also, all this is needed for perfectly justifiable plot reasons. What do you think I am, a monster?
> 
> Well… okay. Maybe. Sometimes. ...I promise we’ll get back to sweetness and fun times later on, though.
> 
> **MAJOR trigger warning for non-con, sexual assault in this chapter. If you wish to skip it, I’ve put a brief non graphic summary in the end notes.**
> 
> Ah, and also I’ve decided President Shinra’s first name is Marcus. It looked weird calling him “the president” all the time and we don’t have a canonical first name, so I improvised. I’d like to apologise to all the Marcuses out there, most of whom are, no doubt, lovely people.

Everything was quiet and warm, soft and comforting. The red velvet curtains of the four-poster bed had been closed, and although there was light outside, inside it was dark and intimate.

For a few moments, Tseng couldn’t fathom what could possibly have possessed him to wake up. This was so good and comfortable, and for once he felt _right_ , not empty and broken as he did more often than not these days.

There was another loud buzzing, and he remembered. His phone. It was ringing, and this was what had awoken him. He groaned to himself and pulled himself out of bed slowly. He was entirely naked, his hair sticking out at various odd angles, a complete mess, and yet, if it hadn’t been for the ringing and the dull, throbbing pain of being in between waves of his heat, he would have said he felt more like himself than he had in a very long time.

He stepped out gingerly. Outside the bed felt chilly, and his over-sensitive skin erupted in goosebumps immediately. He shivered.

His clothes were where he had left them, folded neatly over one of the chairs. They were in terrible shape, but his phone was in his breast pocket, as always.

He glanced at the screen. Reno.

“Yes?” he said, stifling a yawn.

“Yo, boss. You alright?” As usual Reno sounded half bored out of his mind, half insulting, but Tseng, who knew him well, heard the nuance of worry in his voice.

“Fine. Is everything under control?”

“Yep, of course, don’t worry! We can deal without ya for a few days, ya know?”

“I doubt that. What is it, Reno?” His legs felt shaky. He sat down on the plush carpet and crossed his legs. “I know there’s something wrong. Out with it.”

He heard Reno sigh dramatically. “How come you always know? It’s… ya know. Upstairs. The old man.”

The president, in Reno-speak. Tseng tensed up reflexively, a sliver of ice running down his spine. Marcus Shinra. Rufus’s father, the founder of Shinra. The man who’d given him his job, who’d picked him up from the Midgar streets when he was nothing but a starving stray, barely managing to survive. The man he’d learned, over the years, to hate and fear above everyone else.

“What is it?” he asked curtly.

“Says he wants to see ya. Like, right now. I tried telling him ya were, uh, indisposed, as they say, but…”

Tseng closed his eyes. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“No. Uh… but, ya know, maybe it has something to do with, uh…” Reno paused, and Tseng could see him in his mind, scratching his head the way he did when he was embarrassed. “I dunno how to put this, exactly…”

“Try.” 

“...The fact yer apparently fucking the Firsts now?”

“Ah. I see.” He bit the inside of his lip.

“Yep, I mean, ya know, you do you, right? And ya know I’m not a huge fan of Rufus anyway.” This was putting it mildly. Reno had a thing for going on drunken rants about Rufus and what he didn’t like about the way he treated Tseng. Tseng usually said nothing, just let it wash over him. He knew Reno meant well, and his loyalty was absolute. He just had no filter when it came to expressing his opinion. Then again, Reno didn’t know what it was like. He was a beta, and although he and his alpha mate, Rude, were as fiercely loyal to each other as humanly possible, it wasn’t the same. He didn’t depend on the alpha the way Tseng did.

“Anyway…” Reno continued. “It looks like the old man found out. Not from us, obviously, but he’s got his own sources, ya know?”

Tseng knew that. The president trusted no one, not even the Turks. Of course he had other sources of information.

“He sounded pretty pissed off, so, uh, I just thought I’d better call ya. Thought ya’d want to know. What’d ya want me to do? Tell him to go fuck himself?”

Despite everything, that made Tseng huff in amusement. “No, Reno, please don’t do that.”

Tseng knew Marcus. The president was perfectly capable of unleashing hell if he didn’t get what he wanted. And not only for him, but for Rufus, for the Turks, but most of all, if he decided, for Genesis, whose only sin had been to be kind. He knew immediately what his decision was going to be. All this was his own fault and it was only natural he should deal with it himself.

“I’ll deal with it,” he said, his tone final. “Can you head down? I’ll need some clothes.

“Uh… really, boss? I mean, not my place to say, but aren’t ya, uh, sorta _busy_ right now?”

“I’ll be fine, Reno. Be there in ten minutes.”

He hung up without waiting for Reno’s confirmation. He knew Reno would do what he was told, and he didn’t want to discuss it any further.

His body felt slow and lethargic, unresponsive. But he _was_ between waves, which meant he had a few hours in which he could be functional, if he pushed himself to be. It wouldn’t be the first he’d had to deal with work during a heat. It was deeply unpleasant, but possible, except at the very crest of a wave, when there was absolutely no way to force his body to behave. He knew it would leave him broken and exhausted for days afterwards, but he had very little choice. 

If he refused to obey, Marcus would find a way to have his revenge. And it would never be on him, because that was too simple and not the way Marcus worked. It would be on the Turks or on the SOLDIERs, because if there was one thing Marcus knew, it was how to hit Tseng where it hurt. That was how he’d lost Veld, the first person to have ever believed in him.

He could make it, even with his heat crushing him. He’d go upstairs, see what Marcus wanted, then leave. Go… somewhere, for the rest of this heat. Anywhere.

Not home, of course. Rufus didn’t want him. He felt grief rise in him, sharp claws tear at his heart at the thought, and pushed it down. It was useless, right now. He couldn’t let himself think about it. He had to concentrate.

The trick, in fact, was in not letting himself think at all. Try to not feel anything. Focus on the next thing he had to do, the next step, then the next, and that way, he could do anything. 

As though trying to prove this point to himself, he got up, and walked to the bathroom, straight-backed, evenly, as though it didn’t even hurt. That was simple, just a question of ignoring the pain in his muscles, the cramps in his belly, of forcing his legs to move. Then, just as deliberately, he washed himself, and he knew from experience how to manage that, by turning the water to its coldest setting, shocking his body into action. He combed his hair back, and there the tricky part was to resist the temptation of taking his time, of leaning against the cabinet for support, because all that would only lead to more weakness. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, staring in his own eyes, watching them turn to steel. Strength, control. That was what he needed. He could do this. He’d done it before.

He looked around the bathroom for something to wear before Reno got there. There was a robe, hanging off a hook on the door. Genesis would probably not mind him borrowing it.

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he slipped it on. It was soft and red, like almost everything Genesis owned, it seemed, and it smelled like him. It made Tseng want to give up and bury himself again inside the wonderful, absurd nest Genesis had built for him, and sleep. Sleep, until the need came over him again, and Genesis would be there, so beautiful and gentle, and...

“The fuck?” There was a roar outside. Angeal. “Reno! You can’t just barge in here! What are you doing?”

With a start, Tseng came back to his senses.

“Sorry, guys. Boss’s order.” Reno’s voice, lazy and unconcerned, as though none of this was abnormal. “Hey, general!” A wolf whistle. “Nice bite mark. Rough night?”

There was a quick knock on the bedroom door.

“Yo, boss? Ya there?”

“Yes,” said Tseng, opening the door a fraction of the way. He grabbed the set of clothes Reno was handing him. 

“Good morning, boss.” Reno’s eyes widened at the sight of him. “Wow, ya look real nice in red, ya know?”

“Enough, Reno,” he snapped, and shut the door behind him. Quickly, efficiently, he concentrated on dressing, his clothes coming on piece by piece like a suit of armour.

Outside, he could hear voices raised in argument. He knew Reno wouldn’t do anything stupid, but this was nonetheless a terrible breach of trust and privacy on the Turks’ part, and he imagined the First Class SOLDIERs would not readily forgive him. It was a poor way of repaying what they’d done for him. 

A poor way of repaying Genesis’s kindness.

But he certainly couldn’t let himself think of Genesis. Not for a second. If he thought of Genesis, then he would never be able to tear himself away.

He adjusted his tie with quick, practiced fingers, and, not giving himself time to think, opened the door. 

The three SOLDIERs were standing in the corridor, Reno casually blocking their way. As soon as he saw him, Genesis took a step forwards, and Reno extended an arm to stop  
him from coming any closer. 

“What are you doing?” said Genesis, and he looked confused, and more than a little hurt. “You can’t leave!”

“I have to go,” he said, not daring to meet his eyes. He straightened his sleeve, a habit he had when he needed to distract himself.

“Hold on.” Angeal sounded furious. “Can you tell me why Reno let himself into our home without permission, Tseng?” he asked, that alpha roar in the back of his voice, and Tseng felt his knees want to buckle. The animal part of him was panicking at the sound of an angry alpha, every instinct telling him to stand down, to show submission. This was an Alpha and he was omega and his place was at an Alpha’s feet, even though this one was the wrong Alpha, wrong and angry, big and _terrifying_.

“Turk business,” he heard himself say, his voice clear, calm, and unwavering. “I’m very sorry, Angeal.”

“Turk business? Are you fucking kidding me, Tseng?”

“I’m very sorry. I have to go. I apologise for all of this. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He forced himself to meet their eyes. Angeal looked furious, Genesis’s eyes were wide with something like shock and hurt. Betrayal, maybe. But Sephiroth’s eyes were the hardest to face. He looked at Tseng with a strange expression, as though he’d sensed something in him, as though he could see straight into his very soul.

These were good people. They were good, and Tseng was repaying them with this. He’d be lucky if he managed to maintain a cordial work relationship with the general and the two commanders after that.

He made for the door, Reno falling behind him in a not-too-subtle protective position. He could do this. He knew nothing showed on the outside, not his pain, not his fear, not his weakness. This was what he was best at. Hiding. Pretending.

He walked out without a look back, Reno closing the door behind them. He heard the younger man let out a sigh of relief. 

“Man, that was scary. I thought the alphas were going to pounce there for a second. They didn’t look too happy to see ya leave, did they, boss?”

“Who’s on Rufus?” asked Tseng curtly, walking to the elevators.

“Elena. He hasn’t come out yet, apparently. But no worries, he’s safe.”

Tseng nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

“Nah. It’s quiet. Don’t worry, boss. We won’t let ya down.” Reno’s grin was cocky, but there was a serious look in his eyes. He meant it.

“Thank you”, said Tseng.

“So, uh… yer really going upstairs, then? You want me to come with?”

“No. Get back to work. I’ll be fine.” Tseng clenched his fists once, took a deep breath, and called the elevator.

* * *

The president was at his desk, writing. Tseng stopped a dozen feet away, standing at attention. He’d scanned the massive room carefully as he came in, and no one else seemed to be there.

“You called for me, President?” he said, his voice precise and professional. He wouldn’t show any sign of discomfort or weakness in front of Marcus, not if he could help it, no matter how miserable he felt.

“Ah, yes.” The president didn’t even look up. “I have a few things to finish first, then I’ll get to you. Just wait, will you?”

“Sir,” acknowledged Tseng. He relaxed his pose into parade rest, his hands locked at the small of his back, his feet just over ten inches apart. Concentrating on the minutiae of the position helped, as did thinking about his breathing, about keeping his knees unlocked to lessen the strain. It would soon be over, he told himself. Marcus would say whatever he had to say, and then he’d be allowed to leave. He just had to hold until then.

Minutes passed, excruciatingly slowly. The only sound in the room was the scratch of the President’s pen on paper, a small, insectile sound that grated on Tseng’s nerves. He kept his eyes forward, his breathing even.

Outside, a cloud passed over the sun, obscuring it for a moment, then slowly moved away, leaving behind sharp rays of sunlight in which a few dust motes danced.

The president was still writing. Tseng’s legs were cramping, and it was taking all his strength not to let any pain show on his face. How long had it been, now? More than half an hour. An hour, maybe. There was a clock on the wall, to Tseng’s left, ticking softly, but he couldn’t see it without turning his head. And he wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t.

As though hearing his thoughts, Marcus looked up and smirked, his mouth twisting into an ugly smile under his thick mustache. For a second, Tseng thought he might speak, and this ordeal would be over, but no. He looked back down at his paper and kept writing.

Of course. That had been his plan all along. To wait and see how long Tseng could hold out, in his weakened state. 

The cramps were everywhere, now, in his legs, his stomach, his back, coming in short waves like the contractions of labour, closer and closer together. He breathed through them, carefully timing and controlling each breath so they sounded as even and normal as possible, so nothing showed on the outside.

Time passed.

Tseng had no idea how much time had passed, anymore. A lifetime. An eternity. The entirety of time seemed to have contracted to one, painful moment, unending. The light outside had changed, which meant several hours must have elapsed. Or perhaps that was an illusion. Perhaps it had only been seconds. There was no way to know.

Then, suddenly, mercifully, a black veil fell over his eyes, and for one moment, he was no more.

* * *

He woke up to find Marcus standing over him, a loathsome satisfied expression on his face. “Look at you,” he said contemptuously. “Pathetic.”

Tseng willed his body to obey, to stand up. But as he pushed himself to his feet, he felt the warmth of slick pour out of him. He was cresting. He was cresting, and Marcus was there, and in a few moments, he’d be completely helpless. He felt panic rise into him.

“I’m sorry, President,” he said through a tightening throat. There was no point pretending anymore. He’d lost. “I am not well. I should go.”

“What are you talking about, Tseng?” said Marcus, circling around him slowly. “I called you here. You will stay until I am done with you.”

He paced slowly, moving closer and closer to Tseng. “Where have you been, Tseng?”

“What do you mean, Sir?” Maybe Tseng could do this. Just play along. Play along, and perhaps Marcus would let him go, after all.

“I’ve never thought you were a suitable mate for Rufus. But this…” Marcus was so close, now, standing just behind him. Tseng could feel his moist breath behind his ear. “Tell me, Tseng, what kind of slut runs off to another alpha’s den when he’s in heat?”

“Rufus asked me to leave,” Tseng heard himself say.

“And did he ask you to go beg for another alpha’s cock, too?”

Tseng shivered. He tried to speak, to defend himself, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even _think_.

“Although…” continued Marcus, “I can't say I’m surprised. I haven’t forgotten, Tseng, what you really are.”

His large frame was pressing against Tseng’s back, his meaty hand cupping his ass, fingers digging in the cleft to rub at his hole through the fabric of his trousers. 

“You’re an omega bitch, made for alpha cock. I remember how delicious you are, how sweet.”

His fingers pressed harder, cruelly. He rubbed his crotch against Tseng, making him feel how hard he was. The musk of alpha arousal was overwhelming, nauseating 

“I’m bonded, President,” said Tseng between clenched teeth, finally finding the words.

“Oh, yes, of course. It didn’t seem to bother you much last night, though, did it?”

Tseng shook his head. “I didn’t… I haven’t…” he stammered.

“Really? You didn’t jump at the chance?” He laughed cruelly. “How long since you’ve had an alpha, Tseng? My son doesn’t fuck you any more, that’s obvious. You must be aching for it.” He leaned in closer, whispering in Tseng’s ear. “I remember how well you took it.”

“It was always your idea. Not mine.” Tseng turned his face away, trying to escape from the loathsome feeling of Marcus’s breath on his neck. But Marcus had a hand on his shoulder now, holding him firmly in place.

“True. You used to be so obedient. I always thought seducing my son gave you ideas above your station. You are a lowly omega whore underneath it all, Tseng. Maybe you need to be reminded of that.” His lips were right there, at Tseng’s ear, moist and repulsive. “To be honest, I’ve never really understood why one might want to be bonded to an omega in the first place. I don’t think any of you are worth the effort. On the other hand… you make really pretty playthings.” He inhaled Tseng’s scent, his breath hot in his long hair. “You smell so good, when you’re in heat.”

“Marcus. Don’t. Please.”

“Why not? You smell ripe for a good fuck.”

Tseng was struggling to stay upright, but he felt himself be slowly overcome by the terrible weakness that came with a wave. Even though he was using all his will to stay upright, he could feel his knees slowly give way, his back sliding inexorably downward against Marcus, until he ended up in a heap at his feet.

“You see?” Marcus circled back to look at him. He shrugged dismissively, as though Tseng had just proven his point. “You’re pathetic.” He prodded at Tseng with his shoe, a contemptuous look on his face. “I really don’t understand why Rufus ever thought you made a suitable mate. Omegas aren’t mates, they’re toys. Sometimes they’re useful toys, like you, but they should never forget their place. It’s no surprise my son doesn’t want you anymore. He got tired of you, that all. You don’t belong near him. You belong here, grovelling at my feet.”

Tseng couldn’t look up. He was staring at his own hand, willing it to move, to react, to fight back, but it wouldn’t. He felt Marcus grab him by the collar of his suit, drag him painfully across the floor, with insolent ease. While the president was old and overweight, he still had the strength of an alpha. He’d always been able to manhandle Tseng with ease, and Tseng had never fought back anyway, had he? 

At the time, it had seemed like a cheap price to pay for a job and a future. And now, even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to fight back.

He felt Marcus lift him and throw him onto the large leather sofa, his hands tear carelessly at his clothes.

It doesn’t matter, he thought. It’s nothing new. He’s fucked me on this very sofa before. It hasn’t changed much, in ten years. If I could take it then, I can take it now.

But until now, Tseng thought he himself had changed. That he had acquired more valuethan this. That Rufus had given him worth, protection, freedom.

He tried to grasp at the image of Rufus in his memory, back when Rufus was kind and full of love and Tseng had felt so safe, looking up at his laughing grey eyes. So strong. They’d been so happy together, for a brief time. 

But now all those memories were tainted with sadness and pain. They couldn’t protect him from what Marcus was doing to his, how he was spreading him open, prodding at him with careless, cruel fingers. Rufus’s love for him was nothing but dust and ashes now, scattered in the wind.

He felt Marcus’s naked cock slide against his skin and shivered in disgust. His very being was rebelling against the touch of this alpha who wasn’t _his_ , who felt wrong, deeply wrong, and yet his body, weak with heat, wouldn’t react, wouldn’t let him fight back, wouldn’t let him escape. Worse, it was betraying him, reacting to Marcus’s touch as though he wanted this, because that was just what omega bodies did when in heat.

Marcus grabbed his thighs, holding him open. Tseng buried his face against the leather of the sofa. He didn’t want Marcus to see him cry. 

The leather smelled good. He remembered that from every time Marcus had bent him over that very sofa to fuck him and he’d desperately needed to distract himself from it. It smelled expensive and comfortable, like a cosy, safe place.

And then suddenly that brought up another image in his mind. Genesis’s wine-red bed, all softness and warmth. Genesis himself, so gentle and sweet, the softness of his lips on him, how good it was to feel his hands on his skin when he hadn’t been touched in years. The softness in his cerulean blue eyes, the surprising bashfulness he’d shown. How he’d looked at Tseng as though he’d been scared, somehow, with awe in his eyes, as though he was seeking permission to touch him, when he was _Genesis_ , the Red Commander, a hero to hundred of thousands, a First Class SOLDIER with inhuman strength, and Tseng was nothing, a runaway brought up to do a dirty, filthy job, with no honour and no name.

Genesis hadn’t looked at him like that. Genesis had looked at him as though he was worth something, as though he were precious.

Somewhere, far away, Marcus was entering him, and dimly, he could feel the weight of him on his body, the feel of his clammy, sweaty skin, the repulsive hardness sliding between his legs.

But it felt all so distant, so unimportant, as he held onto the image of Genesis’s beautiful face and the feeling of his lips on his, and he held on to that image, safe in the memory of Genesis’s kindness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Executive summary:  
>  Reno comes to get Tseng because President Shinra ordered him to. AGS aren’t happy about it but Tseng insists on leaving.  
> To no one’s surprise, President Shinra is a terrible person. We learn he used to abuse Tseng before Tseng was with Rufus. He rapes Tseng, who can’t resist because of the heat thing.  
> The only thing that gets Tseng through it is the thought of Gen’s kindness. We don’t know what happens after that._
> 
> * * *
> 
> *bangs on table excitedly* guess what? I’ve had a long talk with all the people involved in this (ie. me and the characters that infest my brain) and we have a plan!
> 
> Well, _plan_ might be overstating it. A vague direction. A heading. We’re not sure how or when we’ll get there, but we know where we want to go.
> 
> But one thing’s for sure, Rufus Shinra can go eat a bag of dicks, he’s not getting Tseng back. Genesis took one look at my “sad ending” proposal, laughed, and set it on fire. So now we’re headed for happiness and an AGST* poly-ship that is so random that it may very well never have been done before.
> 
> Also, next chapter is fluff and cuddles, I promise.
> 
> *Yes, I know, you could call it STAG. Or TAGS. Or GAST. They’re all awful so AGST it is. By order of arrival.


	10. Chapter 10

Angeal spent all day trying to control his temper and failing. He did his best not to take it out too much on anyone else, but by the end of the morning, the third classes he was supposed to teach were cringing at every order he barked at them with unnecessary force. He’d even shouted at Zack, his favourite out of all the seconds, when he’d innocently come up to ask him if he was alright, told him it was none of his business and to go back to work and stop bothering him, and Zack had slunk off like a whipped puppy, sad-eyed and forlorn, and now Angeal felt guilty as well as angry.

It wasn’t so much that Reno had just walked in - walked _in_ \- without so much as a by-your-leave, unlocking the door to their home, their haven, with some sort of Turk trick that of course he has access to, because no door stayed locked for long for a Turk. Yes, that had been bad, very bad. It had awoken primal instinct in him to _protect the den_ , protect his mates, and he’d been one second away from ripping Reno’s throat out. 

But the worst had been the look on Genesis’s face after Tseng had left. The confusion in his eyes, as though he didn’t understand how that was possible, how this could happen, when he’d been so happy moments ago. Angeal would have done anything to wipe that look from Genesis’s face, it was unnatural and wrong. Genesis was supposed to look confident, a cocky smirk on his face, a challenging look in his eye, as though defying anyone to come after him, omega or not. He wasn’t supposed to look heartbroken like this. It was unnatural. Unbearable.

So when he came in after a long day’s work to find Genesis slumped sadly around a cup of lukewarm tea in their kitchen, he couldn’t stay silent. There had to be something he could do.

“Gen… are you okay?”

Genesis sighed. “Yes. Feeling a bit useless, though. Haven’t been up to much all day.”

“That’s alright. You needed time. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be there today to be with you.”

“Ang…” Genesis looked up, and his eyes, horrifyingly, were full of tears, and Angeal’s heart skipped a beat. “I just… I don’t understand. I can’t get over it. Why would Tseng leave, Ang? We were…”

“Shhh, baby, I know,” said Angeal, stroking the omega’s hair soothingly. “I know you did the best you could, darling. But you don’t know everything. He probably had his reasons.”

“Of course. I know that. He’s Tseng, he always has his reasons, doesn’t he? He’s smarter than all of us. And anyway, he’s free to do whatever he wants. Even if he wants to go away. After all, I didn’t offer him my help because I wanted anything in return. He doesn’t owe me anything. But…” Genesis turned around, burying his face in Angeal’s chest. “I just… I wanted more time with him. For selfish reasons. I really liked being with him.” He looked up, his eyes oddly serious. “He’s so different from you two. He made me feel different.”

Angeal pulled Genesis back, frowning. “What do you mean, different?”

Genesis ran his hand through his auburn hair. “It’s going to sound stupid, I warn you. But… you two, even when you let me top - and in your case, it’s basically never - it’s… well, it’s just that. You _let_ me top. And I know you love me and everything, but there was something in the way he needed me that was just beautiful, and…”

“Genesis, darling…” Angeal kissed Genesis’s brow. “ _We_ need you.”

Genesis smiled and shook his head. “Not in the same way, though.” He sounded oddly resigned.

“Really?” Angeal tried to think, for a second, how best to explain this. Strangely, he had an idea Sephiroth would have been better at this. Although he often seemed reserved to the point of bluntness, out of the three of them he was actually the best when it came to reading the complexities of their relationship. “Actually, Genesis, I think we need you _because_ you need us. I think it’s just an innate thing with us. We want to be useful, to be needed. That’s why alphas are competitive, why we need to win all the time. We want to show we’re worthy. We want to show you can depend on us. That’s why omegas are so wonderful, I think. Because when you’re all needy and desperate, and I know I can give you what you need… I don’t think there’s anything better than that.“

Genesis looked up, his eyes whinging. “So you’re saying what I felt… this was what you feel when you’re with me?”

“I feel a lot of things when you’re with me. But yes, maybe. It’s a wonderful feeling, to feel needed.” Angeal pulled Genesis close to him, felt him snuggle close against him.

“I’m glad you think so,” Genesis said, in a voice that sounded suspiciously blubbery. “Because I think I need you right now, Ang.”

Gently, Angeal toons Genesis’s head between his hands, kissing the tears that were falling down his cheeks freely. “I’m here, darling. I’m here for you.”

Genesis didn’t answer, just let out a whimper, holding on tight to him.

“Sh. I’ve got you. Let me get you to bed.” Tenderly, with great care, Angeal picked Genesis up, holding him close to him. Genesis’s eyes were tightly closed as he sniffled into Angeal’s shirt, curling against him as Angeal carried him carefully to Genesis’s bed.

“There you are, darling,” said Angeal, putting him down on the bed. Without giving him any time to think, he kissed Genesis’s elegant brow, his long, tear-soaked eyelashes, the constellations of freckles on his cheekbones, the bridge of his patrician nose. “My Genesis,” he whispered. “My lovely, lovely one.”

Slowly, he undressed Genesis, kissing every newly revealed sliver of skin like a sacred treasure, working his way down until he was naked, long-limbed and beautiful. He took a second to take in the sight - to him, still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen

“I’m sorry,” sniffled Genesis, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m still crying.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” Angeal held him close, their legs entwined, stroking his hair. “Cry, if you want. It’s fine.”

Slowly, he moves down Genesis’s body, stroking his chest. He stopped to play with his pretty nipples, a delicate coral colour, teasing each in turn with his tongue until they stand erect, the skin pebbled around them as he blows gently over the wet skin, the cold making Genesis shiver. Then he moved further down to his lean stomach, the skin stretched taut when Genesis laid flat on his back like this, rising up with each hitching breath. He tasted the skin there, clean and sweet, dipped his tongue into the secret hollow of Genesis’s navel, deep and puckered, where there was a hint of salt, a taste that Angeal chased with his tongue, making Genesis squirm. A little reluctantly, he moved further down, but didn’t follow the light dusting of dark red hair that led to Genesis’s still soft cock. Instead, nipping with gentle teeth, he followed the sharp line of Genesis’s hipbone to one side, then down, down to the soft, pale skin of his thighs, so delicate and fragile. He pressed a kiss there, open mouthed and warm, his tongue laving at the skin. Then, just because that white skin was too perfect, too tempting, he sucked at it, leaving a faint red mark, oval-shaped, the size of a thumbprint, and he licked at it in satisfaction. 

Above him, Genesis was still crying softly, one arm flung over his eyes, limp and passive. Angeal hooked a hand under one of Genesis’s knees, pushing it up, parting his thighs, to take in the sight. Genesis’s cock wasn’t even remotely hard yet, soft and small, curled against his balls, white against the auburn curls. Between his legs, his pretty hole didn’t show the slightest shine of slick. But when Angeal stroked Genesis’s soft cock gently with an open palm, Genesis let out a small moan of need in between his quiet sobs and pushed against him, demandingly. 

Angeal knelt between his legs and took him in his mouth, small and vulnerable, the skin silky soft against his tongue. There was no taste, apart from that of clean skin, and the scent of Genesis, light as a summer breeze. He caressed him gently with his tongue, holding him there, warm and safe. 

Gently, he applied the slightest amount of suction, and Genesis let out a sigh. Slowly, he was growing, hardening in Angeal’s mouth until his soft sobs turned into moans and Angeal finally got to taste him, the salt and sweetness of his precome. He pulled back to get to the source of it, and to revel in the sight of Genesis, fully engorged, cock pink and flushed, curving back elegantly so it laid back flat against his stomach. The delicate bead of precum shining just at the slit begged Angeal to take it and he lowered his head, tongue dipping into the small, sensitive sli. He heard Genesis sigh, his eyes still hidden in the crook of his arm but his lips parted, now, in an expression that could still be sadness but could also be pleasure, his mouth in a soft o, the tip of his tongue barely visible between white sharp teeth.

Angeal smiled to himself and took him back into his mouth, angling his head so he could take him fully into his throat, now, as far as he could go. He never had any trouble doing that, somehow. Genesis sometimes joked that it was lucky Angeal was born with no gag reflex, but that wasn’t it. Just that somehow, ever since the first time they’d done anything, since the first bashful kisses they’d exchanged before they’d even presented, Genesis just seemed to fit perfectly, in his arms, in his mouth, around him, in him, in such a way that Angeal, although he didn’t believe in Goddesses and gifts and all the pretty poetry Genesis loved so much, wondered sometimes whether Genesis had been somehow made specially for him by some kindly supernatural being. 

He moved slowly at first, waiting until Genesis started to whine, wanting more, and then proceed methodically to undo him, using all the tricks ten years of doing this had taught him, twisting his tongue around his shaft, stroking him with his lips tight around him, taking him deep, swallowing around him, until Genesis was panting, both hands on his head now, pushing him even closer as though he wanted to crush Angeal against him.

And finally came that that moment Angeal loved above all else, when Genesis let go and started moving his hips forward in small hard jerks, fucking Angeal’s mouth, dragging the head in and out of the tight circle of his lips, rubbing against his palate, forcing its way into his throat, hard, demanding now, until Angeal thought - each time - that this time, he would choke, and then Genesis’s entire body tightened around him with a strangled cry, and Genesis’s cock was pulsing hot in Angeal’s mouth, filling him with the taste of him, and it was heavenly.

* * *

He stayed between Genesis’s legs until he was soft again, cleaning him with his tongue. There was a small wet patch under him, where slick and saliva had mixed, so he picked Genesis up and moved him to the other side of the bed. Genesis’s breathing was slowly calming down. Angeal rolled over onto his front and looked at him, his chin propped up in one hand, smiling. 

“That was nice,” said Genesis. He was smiling a little now. Some of the sadness seemed to have left his eyes. “Do you want me to do anything in return? You can fuck me, if you like.”

Angeal shook his head. “No. I’m good.” He always found doing that intensely arousing, but this was about Genesis, not about him. And even though his alpha instincts were telling him that he should take Genesis, that this was his birthright, that this was his omega to mount and knot and claim, this wasn’t what Genesis wanted, right now. 

Genesis was Genesis, free and headstrong. He didn’t want to be marked, he didn’t want to be owned, and Angeal respected that, although sometimes it made his heart ache. No matter what, he would never force a bond on Genesis. He’d rather have a best friend, a brother and a lover rather than a mate, if it came down to that. 

Genesis smiled lazily. “I could get used to this, you know. Become terribly spoiled.”

“ _Become_ terribly spoiled? Don’t you already always get exactly what you want?”

“Almost always. I didn’t today.”

“You don’t know what happened. I don’t think this is over, Gen.”

Genesis nodded slowly. “Yes, you’re right. It doesn’t feel like it’s over.” He yawned. “Do you mind if I sleep with you tonight?”

Angeal shook his head. “Never. You know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen: Wah, Ang, I’m sad, my pretty omega crush just left me alone and I feel rejected…  
> Angeal: Poor baby. Wanna blowjob?  
> Gen: Will that fix anything?  
> Angeal: No. But I sure as hell will enjoy it.  
> Gen: Well. As long as you enjoy it...  
> Angeal: So you won’t mind?  
> Gen: Fuck no. Go for it, darling.
> 
> ———————-
> 
> This one is dedicated to Lisa and Iciseria, who are both way too patient for their own good.


End file.
